


Don't cut your hair (Do you think it's gonna make him change?)

by harriet_vane



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harriet_vane/pseuds/harriet_vane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The original summary was:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Set a little while in the future. The band takes a break and Brendon gets bored. Spencer goes with him. </em></p><p> </p><p>Now I suppose it would be "Set a little bit in a slightly nicer past, where Brendon and Spencer go on tour by themselves but it isn't the end of the band."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't cut your hair (Do you think it's gonna make him change?)

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't post this fic anywhere else, please don't distribute it anywhere, please don't put it on goodreads, and really really please don't link it to anyone being written about here. Thanks!

  
At some point during his fourth hour of X-Box on Ryan’s floor, Spencer looked up and said, "So is this it?"

There was a long silence from Ryan, who’d been babytalking Hobo for the better part of an hour. "No," said Ryan carefully. "It’s not… It’s not _over_. I’m writing, you know that. And we’re gonna keep playing and stuff. I just…"

Spencer killed an on-screen zombie with more vicious pleasure than was really called for. "You just proposed to Keltie," he said. "Jon just knocked Cassie up."

"Yeah," said Ryan.

"It’s been eight months," said Spencer. He’d been trying not to bring this up for weeks and weeks, but he was bored and twitchy, and his mom kept asking. "I think after eight months of nothing it’s officially a hiatus. Or officially—"

"Hiatus," said Ryan quickly.

Spencer blew up the side of a building. "Okay," he said. "Hiatus."

\--

Sometime around the first tour for the third album Haley called and said, "I can’t do this anymore," and Spencer tried to be surprised. He loved her, but he didn’t see her that much, and what was the point of buying a house and a dog with someone you didn’t see very often? He hung up and he cried on Ryan’s shoulder a little and they went on with the tour and things were pretty much exactly the same, except when they got off tour he spent more time at Ryan’s house than anywhere else.

After the second tour Jon got a phone call that left him shaking a little bit, too, and Spencer was prepared to go out drinking all night to celebrate the single life. Jon shook his head. "I’m gonna be a _dad_ ," he said. "I have to go call Wentz."

Ryan and Brendon and Spencer sat in stunned silence for a minute. "Holy shit," said Brendon finally.

"Yeah," said Spencer, glancing over at Ryan. He expected Ryan to look upset – if Jon was having a baby, he was gonna want to be in Chicago more. The tour was gonna get all fucked up.

Ryan just shook his head. "It’s cool, man," he said. "We’re growing up. Serious relationships are… serious." He shrugged.

"Things are gonna be the same, though," said Brendon anxiously. "I mean, Jon can be a dad and still be Jon." He looked over at Spencer, all big eyes begging for reassurance.

"Sure," said Spencer.

\--

They all flew out to Chicago after the baby was born. Spencer couldn’t get over his surprise that she was so quiet. Paz was the mellowest baby in the history of mellow babies. She clung to her daddy and stared at them with giant brown eyes and smiled at everyone.

Ryan wasn’t much of a baby person, but he cooed at her and smiled when Keltie asked to hold her. Paz was happy to let them pass her around, and she seemed to have a special fondness for her uncle Brendon, who was a fucking natural with babies. It made sense since he had a cartoon face and all.

"I just need to be home with her for a while," was all Jon said. "Just when she’s this little and fragile. I’ll record some stuff here and mail it to you, okay?"

"Sure," Ryan said. He squeezed Keltie’s hand and smiled at her. Brendon pretended to throw up behind them.

\--

It was weird, but they didn’t actually see Brendon that often. They had, back when the tour first ended, before Ryan flew Keltie to Paris and gave her the ring. Spencer had tagged along on the vacation but not on the proposal, because he was kind of a pushy best friend, but he wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he was doing anything else, though. They got back and Brendon just wasn’t around. He was a little distant when Spencer called, a little distracted.

After every other tour Brendon had taken forty-eight hours to himself and then spent every minute clinging to Spencer and Ryan, calling them and asking if they’d go to the movies, if they wanted to order pizza, if they had seen there was a Trading Spaces marathon on tv. It made Spencer feel less alone and weird about it. Brendon would hook up with someone and vanish for a day or two, but he always came back to Spencer, lying around on the floor smoking up and playing stupid video games.

Somehow now Brendon was always busy, although Spencer had no idea what he was busy doing.

"Yo, I just realized I haven’t seen you in _three months_ ," said Spencer incredulously on the phone. Keltie was making dinner and Hobo was running around the kitchen, whining anxiously in case she didn't get any chicken.

"Oh, uh, really?" said Brendon. "But I talk to you all the time." There were weird noises in the background. Brendon was out somewhere, Spencer decided. Out without them.

"I talk to Jon more, and he has an _infant_ ," said Spencer. "What the hell, Urie, did you fall off a cliff?"

"I’m just busy," said Brendon.

"Busy doing what?" Keltie leaned around the corner and held up a head of broccoli questioningly. _Ryan won’t eat it,_ she mouthed. _You?_

"Stuff," said Brendon. "Just. I’m busy doing stuff. Hey, I have to go, tell Ross I said hi."

Weird, thought Spencer, and hung up to go have dinner with the soon-to-be Ross-Colleens.

\--

Jon emailed pictures of Paz pretty much every day. She was crawling already, and Ryan had mailed her a collection of adorably weird baby hats. Jon took pictures of her doing _everything_ , and doing it in bonnets and fedoras and newsboy caps.

"You two set a date?" Spencer asked, flipping through Ryan’s cable channels.

"Why?" asked Ryan. "Are you worried you’ll have something else booked? Besides lying on my couch, I mean."

Spencer kicked him idly and settled on the top one-hit wonders of the 80’s. "You talked to Brendon lately?"

"I think he’s visiting Pete," said Ryan. "I don’t know." He paused. "We’re thinking next summer," he said.

It took Spencer a second. "Holy shit, for real? You actually picked a day? Has she bought a dress?"

Ryan smiled helplessly. "Paz is going to be our flower girl," he said. "I was thinking three best men, maybe?"

Spencer hugged Ryan and then they slapped each other on the back a little bit. "You better call Brendon, then," said Spencer. "He’s so busy you probably have to book him a year in advance."

"He’ll show up as soon as we’re recording again," said Ryan confidently.

Spencer wondered when Ryan thought that was going to be.

\--

Everything happened in a stupidly unfortunate way; Ryan called Pete and they were in the middle of a speakerphone conversation about clowns when Pete suddenly said, "Have you heard Brendon’s latest?"

Ryan waggled his eyebrows at Spencer, who shrugged. "Latest what?" Ryan asked. "Some girl on MySpace bitching about his morning-after manners again?" They’d been on Brendon’s case since pretty much the first week of the first tour to stop being such a douche to his hookups. At the very least he’d gotten a lot more discreet in the last year or two.

"Latest song," said Pete.

There was some silence in Ryan’s living room. "He’s out there writing with you?" asked Ryan carefully, one hand on Spencer’s knee like he was trying to catch his balance.

Spencer felt like he was being stretched all over. Brendon wasn’t good at leaving the music behind when they weren’t on tour, but he’d never been much good at showing his stuff to anyone who wasn’t in the band, either. Not even Pete.

"He’s not writing," said Pete awkwardly. "Shit, he didn’t tell you? He’s uh… He’s recording. An album. Shit, Ryan, you should call him."

"He’s _what?_ " Spencer burst out. "Bullshit."

"Awww, hell," said Pete. "I didn’t mean to… Listen, I’m gonna go. You guys talk to him, okay?" The speaker went to dial tone.

Ryan clicked it off. "What the fuck," said Ryan wonderingly, and then a minute later, anger creeping in to his tone. "What the _fuck._ "

Spencer already had his phone out. "He’s not answering," he said. He paused. "Maybe it’s just a couple of songs. It’s not like… He wouldn’t just _leave_ us. He needs us."

"He’d better," said Ryan darkly.

\--

There had been a hiatus between the first and second albums, too, but as near as Spencer could figure the difference was this: that first hiatus had been a period when Ryan and Brendon were fighting all the time, and they all needed a couple of months to get themselves sane again. But they hadn’t all been able to stay away for very long, and after a few weeks Brendon had shown up a little sheepishly on Spencer’s steps, asking if he wanted to hang out. Jon had flown out to visit and they’d made nachos in Ryan’s yard and smoked up and talked about the new album and how awesome it was going to be. They’d rented a cabin, since obviously it would be easier to write all together.

This time they’d all gone their separate ways. Well, except Spencer, who’d gone Ryan’s way, because that was what he did when he didn’t know what else to do.

It took Ryan forever to get Brendon on the phone. It had been at least a year since Spencer had seen red-faced, dead-eyed, really – honestly -- angry Ryan in full force. Keltie rolled her eyes and went to make macaroni and cheese.

"So," said Ryan coldly. "Brendon. Anything you want to tell us?"

There was a long pause. "Oh, hey, hi, Ryan," said Brendon finally, voice filled with false cheer. "Tell you about what?"

"About what you’re doing with Pete," said Spencer.

"Hey, Spence, how’s it going?" said Brendon. "You’re still at Ryan’s?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Urie," Ryan snapped. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to tell you," said Brendon. "I just… I wanted to see how it came out first."

Spencer’s stomach bottomed out. "You’re recording an album," he said. "You couldn’t talk to us? You couldn’t wait?"

"Wait for what?" asked Brendon. "I waited, okay, you guys are all… Busy." His voice had gotten the tight kind of defensive that meant he was attacking before anyone could attack him.

"Yeah, well, that’s what being on hiatus means!" Ryan said. "We’re taking a break. Are you – Are you _quitting_ the _band_?"

Spencer’s heart honest to god stopped beating for a minute. "He’s not," he said quickly. "Brendon, you’re not."

"Is there a band to quit?" asked Brendon.

"Of _course_ —" Spencer started.

"Because last I checked," said Brendon meanly, "bands tour and play music. They don’t have weddings and babies and buy mini-vans."

"Hiatus!" yelled Ryan. "I can’t believe you’re so immature that you can’t be happy for those of us who are grownups!"

Brendon’s phone clicked off.

Ryan threw his cell phone across the room and watched it hit the wall. "He’s wrong," said Ryan flatly.

Spencer felt a little sick. "He is," he said. "But… I mean. He’s not, you know?"

Ryan stormed out.

\--

Ryan got a minute into a long speech to Jon about Brendon being a _traitor_ who’d _betrayed the band_ when Jon’s connection suddenly and suspiciously went out. Ryan called back three more times and finally got a text – _sry bb crying ttyl?_

Paz never cried, so Spencer didn’t know who Jon thought he was fooling.

At least Jon was safe in Chicago. Spencer hadn’t been home to his own apartment for more than a couple of days since the end of the tour, but he found himself suddenly intensely in need of an excuse to get away from Ryan. Ryan had puffed up like a blowfish, storming around the apartment and throwing things, while Hobo hid in the bedroom with Keltie, who yelled she wasn’t opening the door until Ryan decided to be reasonable.

"He didn’t mean it like that," Spencer said for the hundredth time. "Ryan. I’m _sure_ he didn’t mean it like that."

"He quit the band," Ryan said. "You heard him, he just quit the band."

"No," said Spencer carefully. "He just… He got bored. He’s Brendon, he can’t take eight months off and do nothing like we can. So he wrote some songs and he told Pete about them and he’s recording them, but it’s not—"

"Why don’t you want to punch him in the face?" Ryan yelled. "I want to punch him in his stupid muppet face."

Spencer considered that. "I don’t think he really means it," he said. "I mean, it’s Brendon. Can you really imagine him getting all Justin Timberlake without us?"

Ryan threw himself down on the couch. "Yes," he said miserably. "Since the first time I heard him sing in your garage I’ve been able to imagine _exactly_ that."

And that was reason number seven or eight that Ryan had been so nasty to Brendon while they recorded the first album, Spencer knew. "If you lose your shit over this we _will_ lose him," Spencer said.

Ryan pretended not to hear. "I’m going to go upstairs to talk to my fiancée," he said. "She’s holding my dog hostage."

"Because you’re a lunatic," Spencer grumbled, but he couldn’t put any bite behind it.

\--

Brendon wasn’t answering his phone.

Spencer got why, but he left a series of increasingly irate messages anyway. "Answer your phone, jackass," became, "Seriously, unless you are dead, pick up your phone, Brendon," and then, "Do you want me to send Ryan after you? Because he’s out for blood. Talk to me or talk to him, you fucktard. _Pick up your phone._ "

Pete picked up his phone, on the other hand, with a resigned sigh. "Yeah, hi," he said. "He’s hiding out in my basement, hang on." Pete never remembered to cover up the phone, so Spencer winced as he bellowed, "Brendon! It’s Patrick! He needs to ask you a question about the new song!"

There was a second and then Brendon, a little breathless, saying, "Hey, what, did something happen? I know the bridge is fucked up, what’s up?"

Spencer could have choked him. "What the honest to god _fuck_ ," Spencer said. "And if you hang up on me I will _never speak to your ass_ again, Brendon, I am serious."

There was a longer pause, and Spencer definitely heard Pete in the background say, "Uh, I’m gonna just… Sorry. Dude, talk to him."

"Brendon," Spencer said.

"Hi," said Brendon in a really small voice. "Um. So. What’s up?"

Spencer sputtered for a minute. "You get one guess," he said sarcastically.

"Well, you know, I didn’t want to presume," Brendon said, chattering a little bit. "It could be something else. I mean, baby news, or Keltie news, or whatever, or –"

"Shut up," Spencer ordered. Brendon stopped. "Just… Tell me what you were thinking, okay?"

Brendon sighed. "I was bored," he said. "It started as kind of a joke, and then I had some stuff, and you were all busy, and I sent it to Pete, and he liked it, and I was talking to Patrick, and he thought it was okay, too, and I flew out to just… Just to see."

"You didn’t _say_ anything," Spencer said.

"Was I just supposed to wait around?" Brendon asked. "Just sit on my hands and then one day you guys would be nice enough to let me know we weren’t a band anymore?"

"Fuck you—"

"Ryan and Jon don’t want to tour anymore, Spencer, I get it. But I _do._ And I’m not Ryan’s pet, I’m not going to wait for him to decide—"

"You’re _touring_?" Spencer demanded. "Without us?"

Brendon stopped again. "Fuck," he said. "I wasn’t going to say that."

"Fuck _you_ , you weren’t going to say that," Spencer said. "You’re _touring_?"

"This is the part where you hang up on me, yeah yeah yeah," said Brendon tiredly.

Spencer’s whole body felt like it was made of ice; he might shatter at any second. "You’re _serious_ about all this," he said.

"I… Yeah," said Brendon. "I didn’t mean to… I just didn’t want to talk about it before it was for real, and then once it was I knew you’d all be so pissed that I couldn’t… I’m sorry," he said, in a tiny voice.

"You ought to be," snapped Spencer.

This time Brendon hung up first.

\--

A couple of weeks went by and Brendon didn’t call.

Spencer didn’t expect him to, exactly, but the radio silence was unnerving. Spencer knew Brendon really well, and he couldn’t believe Brendon was anything but devastated by the fight. So why wasn’t he apologizing, why wasn’t he calling, why hadn’t he shown up at Ryan’s house puffy-eyed and miserable?

"He’s a coward, that’s why," said Ryan.

On the computer screen from Chicago, Jon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Hey, check it out," he said. "Paz is blowing spit bubbles! Can you say ‘Ryan’? Say Ryan, honey. Say Ryan."

Paz blew another bubble and said, "Bah bah bah bah."

"I’m taking him out of the wedding party," Ryan said.

"No, you’re not," Spencer sighed. "Give him some time to cool down. Give yourself—"

"I am perfectly cool!" Ryan yelled.

Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Can you say ‘tempermental diva’?" Jon cooed at the baby. "Say ‘diva.’"

"Shut up," Ryan said.

Jon pretended to cover Paz’s ears.

\--

_i’m turin thru vegas in a cupl weeks. dnt tell ross._

Spencer frowned at his phone and texted back, _what makes u think i care?_ Then he decided that was too mean, and added, _when/where?_

Brendon replied with the name of a club so small The Cab hadn’t even played there. _openin 4 rudy, cu l8r. xoxo_

Spencer didn’t think a couple of weeks was going to be enough time to talk Ryan down, honestly, so he wrote it down in his palm pilot and tried not to be pissed.

\--

Spencer was pretty good at keeping secrets, but not from Ryan.

"Tell me," said Ryan, poking him in the side with his long, spindly fingers. "Tell me tell me tell me."

"Jesus, you miss Brendon so much you’re acting like him," Spencer complained, and didn’t miss the flash of hurt on Ryan’s face. "It’s nothing. Just, Brendon’s apparently playing a show in Vegas."

He waited for a second, scratching Hobo behind the ears and hoping that Ryan was serious about this whole "maturing and growing up" thing.

"I hope he chokes," said Ryan.

Spencer sighed. "Like, literally, or –"

"On _stage_ , asshole," said Ryan. "I hope he gets up there and it’s miserable and he hates it and everyone laughs at him and he—"

"Comes crawling back to you?" Spencer asked. Ryan crossed his arms and looked pouty. "Jesus, why wouldn’t he have told you about the tour, I wonder?"

"It’s not my fault, it’s his fault!" Ryan said a little shrilly, shoulders hitched up around his ears. "You’re going to go see him, aren’t you? Traitor."

"No," said Spencer. "Not definitely." He shrugged. "I don’t know, someone should."

"If he wanted us there he would have told us about it," Ryan snapped. "Hobo, c’mere. Stop stealing my stupid dog, Spencer." Hobo wagged her tail hopefully and whined, looking toward the kitchen.

"I’m not stealing your dog," Spencer said. He elbowed Ryan in the side. Hobo licked the side of his face. "You should come with me," he said quietly. "Ryan. He’s our friend."

Ryan shook his head and snuggled his dog, but he didn’t mean _no_ , Spencer knew. He meant _You go first_. Ryan was fearless in a lot of ways, but not with being wrong. Not with people.

"Hey," said Spencer. "I’ll call him. And I bet he’s miserable and lonely and begs us to come out, okay?"

"Maybe," said Ryan, muffled in Hobo’s neck. "I guess."

\--

"Oh my god, I can’t wait!" said Brendon. "I have all these ideas, and new songs, and Patrick’s helped me work out how to do it acoustic, and I’m so excited!"

Ryan scowled at Spencer and mouthed _This is your fault_.

Spencer waved him off. "Yeah," he said. "It’ll be weird to open for people again, huh?"

"Yeah, but that means I can do pretty much whatever I want," said Brendon happily. "No one’s going to be there to see that kid from Panic at the Disco, you know? God, I’m so _psyched_."

Spencer wasn’t going to sigh or roll his eyes or yell at Brendon for being oblivious. "Yeah," he said. "It sounds pretty amazing."

"It’s gonna be _awesome_ ," said Brendon again. "I have to go, dude, I’m looking at album art with Pete, but I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye!"

Ryan stomped upstairs and Spencer didn’t blame him.

\--

Spencer went anyway. He wasn’t doing anything else, after all, and Brendon might talk a good game but he probably wanted someone there to see anyway. Of course, Shane would be there, if he wasn’t shooting a movie or off with Reagan.

The club was small and cheap and it made Spencer grateful all over again for all the things they’d never had to do when they were too young to know better. Pete had set up the tour, at least, so Brendon was hanging out with friends. Pete was always finding new acts and sending them out – this tour was some singer-songwriter who wore too much eye makeup and too many ruffles.

Spencer knew the type.

There was barely anyone there, and the parking lot was mostly empty. Spencer recognized a couple of the roadies and nodded to them.

"Your boy’s out back," said Alan, pulling out an amp.

It was kind of awesome to walk into a show without anyone screaming at him, Spencer thought, and headed around back. There was no Zack to babysit, no line of girls outside the venue. Pete had really done a good job keeping a lid on Brendon’s participation. Spencer was impressed.

A couple of scene kids were smoking, deliberately looking away from the door of the venue, which meant that was where the artists were. Spencer ignored them and they ignored him. Spencer hadn’t realized he missed the smell of cigarettes and beer and vomit, but he had.

The vomit, it turned out, was Brendon. He was doubled over with one hand on the wall of the building. His hair was a little longer than last time Spencer had seen him – Jesus, months ago – but he still looked just like Brendon. Spencer had seen him throw up enough times, although almost always after a show, when he’d drunk too much on an empty stomach and the lights were too hot.

"Yo," said Spencer, standing a little way back. He was wearing new jeans, he didn’t need to get them all pukey.

Brendon sighed. "Of course," he muttered, and stood up. He tried a big smile, but it looked a little weak, even in the lamplight of the parking lot. "Spencer, hey."

Spencer considered Brendon for a second. "You didn’t start drinking already, right?" he asked. "Did you fly off to L.A. and let Pete give you a drinking problem? Again?"

Brendon laughed. "Nah," he said. "I’m just preparing for the set. You know, acid is awesome for the vocal chords."

"I’ve heard that," Spencer agreed solemnly. There was a weird, awkward minute. Spencer hadn’t realized just how much he missed Brendon until he was around again. "Hey, stupid, I haven’t seen you in months, I don’t even get a hug?"

Brendon lit up for real. "Awww," he said. "You’re such a pussy." Then he threw himself at Spencer, and it was totally normal again, Brendon hanging off Spencer’s neck like he always had. He didn’t smell like beer at all, Spencer noticed, and frowned a little.

"You really came out," said Brendon happily. "Dude, I appreciate it. I do. I told them to put your name on the list, just in case. Yours and Ryan’s, but…" He paused. "He’s not here, right?"

Spencer shook his head. Something flashed over Brendon’s face, hurt, maybe, being chased by resignation. "Okay," said Brendon. "I figured. He’s touchy."

"Aren’t you on soon?" Spencer asked.

For a second Brendon looked absolutely panicked. "Yeah," he said, voice tight. "Oh, Christ. Yeah."

Spencer nodded. "You’re excited, right?" he said. "Super psyched? Throwing up right before your set has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with, like, bad eggs at lunch?"

Brendon wrinkled up his nose. He’d never been any good at hiding anything, not from the band at least. "I’m gonna get used to it," he said. "I’m sure I can get over my paralyzing fear of walking out there by myself, right? If, y’know, I was scared. Which I’m totally not."

"You want me to hold your hand?" Spencer asked, trying not to smile.

"You mock my pain," Brendon accused, pointing.

"Yeah," said Spencer. "A little. But hell, I’m here, aren’t I?"

Brendon smiled gratefully. "You are," he said. "Dude, I—"

Someone stuck his head out the door. "Brendon, five," he said.

Brendon nodded, sucking in a long breath and then blowing it out slowly. "Shit," he said. "I’m actually going to do this. What was I _thinking_ , Spencer, _shit_."

Spencer had come there a little bit to talk Brendon out of it, hoping he’d be awful and he could report back to Ryan that Brendon was miserable and lonely and they could have him back. But he looked so lost that Spencer just shrugged. "You’re thinking you love to play, and you haven’t gotten to lately, and that you’re gonna be awesome," he said.

Brendon nodded tightly. He shook his hands out. "What if I suck?" he said.

"You never suck on stage," said Spencer. Brendon bit his lip. "Seriously, dude, off stage you are a total fuck up, but on stage you’re kind of magic. I promise."

Brendon threw himself at Spencer again, just for a second. "I love you," he said quickly, and then ran inside.

"Yeah," Spencer yelled after him. "You’d better!" He felt a little weird so he kicked the heel of his sneaker against the asphalt for a minute, until his stomach settled down, and then he followed Brendon in to watch the show.

\--

Ryan was sitting on the couch in the dark when Spencer got home. Hobo had her head cocked to one side, watching him suspiciously. She didn’t move when Spencer walked in, not until Spencer threw himself on the couch. Then she ran around in a circle a couple of times and curled up on the floor.

"It’s a little bit creepy," said Spencer. "You sitting alone in the dark., I mean."

"I was just on my way to bed," Ryan explained.

"Hmm," said Spencer.

Ryan crossed his arms. "I _was_ ," he said.

"Okay," Spencer agreed. He let the silence stretch, listening to Hobo whuffle underneath her paws.

"Fine, I give," Ryan said. "How was he?"

Spencer smirked. "And so you see, Doctor Jones, there is nothing you can possess that I can not take away—" he started, and Ryan elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow. Dude, pointy. You want the truth?"

Ryan nodded.

"He was really good," Spencer sighed. "I mean, it’s Brendon, right? He was nervous as shit, but he sounded great. And the new stuff is… It’s him. It’s a little folkier, a little catchier, a little less artsy."

Ryan snapped, "Okay, I get it, he’s a solo artist now, he’s—"

"He doesn’t like performing alone," said Spencer calmly. "Would you chill the fuck out, please?"

Ryan deflated a little bit. "Yeah?"

"He asked me if you were there, and he looked a little heartbroken when you weren’t."

"Well, what did he _expect_?"

Spencer leaned over and put his head on Ryan’s bony shoulder. "He was hoping nine years of friendship would trump a couple of months of petty fighting."

"That’s not _fair_."

"Brendon doesn’t fight fair." That was a truth universally acknowledged among the band. "He’s playing again. Come with me."

Ryan shook his head. Spencer waited.

\--

Spencer was planning to go with or without Ryan, and Ryan spent most of the afternoon banging around his house scaring Hobo. Around the time they actually needed to go if they were going to make it before Brendon played, Keltie came downstairs and put her hands on her hips.

"You’re being mean," she said sternly to Ryan.

"No, I’m not," he said.

Keltie frowned. "Mean," she repeated. "Knock it off and go hear your friend play. If you put out a solo record—"

"Which I wouldn’t do."

"--He’d be there in a heartbeat." She wrapped her arms around Ryan’s neck.

Ryan looked at Spencer, but Spencer just shrugged. Keltie was basically right.

"I decided that if you try and take him out of the wedding party I’m going to make him one of my bridesmaids," Keltie said. "And we’ll hang out and drink margaritas and try on hats without you."

"He’d wear the dress just to annoy me," said Ryan darkly.

Keltie kissed his cheek. "He would if I asked him to," she agreed. "So you’d better go get your hands on him first."

Ryan tried to look annoyed, but he wasn’t any good at that with Keltie around. "Okay," he said. "Fine. I can be the bigger person."

"Bigger than what?" asked Keltie, poking him in the arm. "A stiff breeze would carry you away forever."

Ryan tickled her side and she shrieked and ran upstairs again. "We should call Jon," said Ryan. "Make it a band thing."

They wouldn’t have been doing it if there had been any real ‘band things,’ Spencer thought, but he grabbed his phone.

\--

Word had obviously gotten out that Brendon Urie was playing, because there were a lot more hopeful twelve year olds this time. Ryan pulled on his asshole sunglasses. "They aren’t old enough to get into the club," he said. "Right?"

"Maybe we should have called Zack," said Spencer. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

That made Ryan’s face go kind of blank, which Spencer pretended not to notice. Rudy, Pete’s singer-songwriter, gave them a raised eyebrow and a flat stare as they walked by. Spencer was twenty-four, he wasn’t used to feeling like an elder statesman backstage. Whatever, screw that kid. He didn’t know what he was in for yet.

Brendon had his guitar out, sitting on a amp backstage. "What’s up?" said Spencer.

"Hey," said Brendon, looking up. "Hi, Ryan."

Ryan held up one hand, the other still in his pocket. He hadn’t taken off his glasses.

Brendon waited a beat, but Ryan didn’t say anything, so he just nodded. "Thanks for coming by. How are you guys?"

The tension was palpable, and Spencer hated it. He wanted to shove Ryan, or yell at Brendon to open up and be his normal spazzy self, but Brendon was holding on to his guitar’s neck with white-knuckled fingers and a practiced casual expression.

"We’re good," said Spencer. "We figured since it was only a four-show tour we should stop by."

"Cool," said Brendon.

Spencer nodded and waited, rocking up on the balls of his feet, but neither of his asshole friends said anything to each other. Spencer was going to tell Keltie all about this when he got home, and she was going to be pissed. Spencer gave Ryan a look that he hoped said _Your fiancée is gonna kill you_.

Ryan glared. Even behind the glasses, Spencer could tell. "So," said Ryan, "do you have enough songs for a whole set, or are you playing some of our stuff?" His tone made it clear that "our" meant him and Spencer and Jon, not Brendon.

Brendon flashed through really fucking annoyed and then smiled sunnily at Ryan. "I’m just opening," he said. "So I’m only playing four or five songs. The album won’t be out for another few weeks anyway. Then Pete thinks I should do a real tour. Maybe you can come see that one. Since you aren’t doing anything."

"Oh, fuck you—"

"Hey," said Spencer, stepping between them. This was reminiscent of the heyday of the Guitar Hero War, and Spencer never needed to live through that again. "Knock it off. I didn’t bring you here to be a dick."

Ryan crossed his arms huffily.

"I’m sorry you had to drag him out here," muttered Brendon, standing up. "I’m gonna go warm up."

"Brendon—"

"Shane’s around here somewhere. You can go hang out with him," said Brendon. He shoved Spencer a little as he walked off, so he could avoid getting too close to Ryan. Spencer thought for a second about catching Brendon’s arm and making him stay, forcing him to talk to Ryan. But by the time Spencer started to figure out what he’d say, Brendon had vanished, and Ryan was stomping his foot.

"That wasn’t my fault."

"Shut up," said Spencer. "I’m pissed at both of you."

"He’s the one who—"

"God, _grow up_ , Ryan!" Spencer snapped.

Ryan fell silent.

Spencer shook his head. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he said.

"A real tour," said Ryan quietly. "Without us. That doesn’t upset you?"

It broke Spencer’s heart. "He’ll come back," said Spencer confidently. _Unless you keep being an asshole_ , he warned Ryan with an eyebrow.

Ryan shrugged uncomfortably. _Sorry_ , he said with a hitched shoulder. _I’ll try._

"Yo, that has always been creepy as shit to watch," said Shane, appearing out of nowhere. "You know psychic powers aren’t normal, right?"

"Hey, dude," said Spencer, hugging him hello. Ryan did his stiff wave again. _Try harder_ , Spencer ordered, frowning. Ryan nodded.

\--

"Paz wants to say hi," said Jon. "Give Brendon the phone, Spence."

Brendon was laughing, loud and bright. He’d sweated through his shirt just playing an acoustic set by himself for twenty minutes. It had improved his mood about a million percent, though. Spencer handed him the phone and Shane snapped a picture.

"What?" said Brendon. "Oh, it’s the baby! Hi, baby! I missed you! How are your mommy and daddy?"

Ryan was standing stiffly against the wall. Shane snapped a picture of him, and Ryan pushed his glasses up on top of his head. He attempted a real, human smile, which Spencer knew wasn’t easy for him.

"Well bah bah bah to you, young lady," said Brendon to the phone, and then made a kissy noise. Spencer could hear Paz giggling.

"You’re getting spit on my phone," said Spencer, holding out his hand impatiently.

"I have to go," Brendon told Paz mournfully. "Your mean old Uncle Spencer doesn’t love me anymore."

"Oh my god, _give me that_ ," said Spencer, grabbing the phone and then swatting Brendon with it. Brendon laughed and shook sweat out of his hair.

"I’m not flying out to visit until you make those two behave," said Jon. "You better get on that. This baby is getting cuter by the day."

"I’m trying," Spencer promised.

Brendon made a face at Shane. "Dude, stop," he said. "What, are you making a scrap book? I know you miss me, but—"

"I’m documenting the rise of a super star," said Shane. "Smile for the camera, pretty boy."

Brendon threw a towel at him.

"You sounded good," said Spencer, kicking Ryan’s ankle.

"Did he?" said Jon. "Damn."

Brendon beamed at Spencer. "I think it was better than last time," he said. "I was a little more on."

"It was okay," said Ryan. It was grudging like he was pulling teeth, but Brendon knew as well as Spencer did that Ryan would always err on the side of meanness when he was giving an opinion.

Brendon’s smile dimmed, but he nodded. "Thanks," he said. "I uh… Thanks for coming tonight."

Ryan nodded and pressed his lips together.

"Baby steps," said Spencer to Jon.

"Not for another few months," said Jon, and Paz giggled in the background.

\--

Hobo had never learned to sit or heel on command, but Spencer had gotten pretty close to teaching her to hide her treats in Ryan’s shoes. At least, he liked giving her treats and watching her run around with them in a tizzy, and he liked hearing Ryan yell about it afterwards. Any connection between the two was probably a coincidence, but Spencer wanted credit.

Most of the time, though, Spencer was bored as shit. He texted Jon, but Jon’s texts had never been super coherent before the baby, and since the baby if he replied at all it was usually _tired ttyl?_ Spencer didn’t need to text Ryan, Ryan was always home ripping pictures of weddings out of magazines and covering the basement walls with them, sort of the same way a serial killer might rip out pictures of his victim. Spencer tried to avoid the basement.

That left Brendon, but texting Brendon had always involved some risks. Spencer texted _wut r u doin?_ and a few minutes later got a photo back. It took him a minute or two to decipher what he was seeing – it looked a lot like someone’s arm, and a blanket. Spencer frowned.

 _I think hs nam is Dan?_ Brendon texted an hour or so later, and Spencer groaned and turned his phone off, vowing never to text Brendon again.

Brendon sent unsolicited texts, too, usually _we r partying like rok stars, coors lite an guitar hero!!_ or _This girl jus asked if u wer stil singl, do u lik tong peircings?_ Spencer texted back _omg ur gross_ and considered girls with tongue piercings idly for the rest of the afternoon.

Brendon stopped texting for a couple of weeks, and then suddenly Spencer got an email that said DON’T TELL ROSS DID U C? and an attachment that was a one-paragraph Rolling Stone review of Brendon’s new album. It wasn’t entirely flattering, something about overreaching from a band that had never been that special to begin with. Spencer growled and looked at the reviewer’s name, and promised himself that if he ever ran into the guy at a party he’d punch him in the stomach.

 _my album is dun u wanto c?_ Brendon texted abruptly one afternoon.

Spencer’s stomach flopped over a couple of times. He didn’t, it made everything too real. Before he had a chance to figure out how to word that in text he got an email with ALBUM ART!!!!! as the subject line.

It was pretty, Spencer thought, and wished it wasn’t. Everything was brown and muted and a little abstract, which fit Brendon’s new sound pretty well. There wasn’t a picture of Brendon anywhere, just a list of eleven tracks with stupid punning titles and on the back a photo of an acoustic guitar.

 _U shud get shane 2 take sum pictures of u 4 all the girls_ , Spencer texted.

 _Ur missing the point,_ Brendon replied.

\--

"What do you think?" Keltie asked. She had a giant white-brimmed hat with a long trailing veil on her head.

"I think you look like an extra from My Fair Lady," said Spencer.

On the computer screen, beaming in from Chicago, Cassie shushed him. "You look amazing," she said. "Oh my god. I’m going to cry so much."

"Shut up," said Keltie, putting on a different hat. "How about this?"

"Paz is clapping," said Cassie.

"Paz has been tricked into thinking all grown ups wear hats all the time," Spencer grumbled. "Do I have to be here for this?"

Keltie poked him in the shoulder. "My maid of honor is in _Chicago_ , Spencer. And Ryan doesn’t want to see the dress before the ceremony."

"Right, but I’m a _guy_ ," Spencer pointed out.

Cassie and Keltie exchanged looks. "Honey," said Keltie. "You’re Ryan’s best friend. Out of all the people in the world who might have opinions on hats –"

"Right?" said Cassie.

"—I mean, you have the necessary job experience," said Keltie. "Plus, no offense, but your whole band is a little gay, so."

Spencer crossed his arms grumpily. "You’re marrying one of us," he said. "And even Brendon sleeps with girls sometimes."

"Uh huh," said Keltie unconcernedly. "How about a scarf. What do you think? I’m wearing a mini-dress, I might get cold."

"Paz likes it!" said Cassie.

"You have _five months_ until the wedding," Spencer moaned, but no one was listening to him.

\--

Brendon had an album release party the night before his new tour started. Spencer and Keltie dragged Ryan along, because it was going to be kind of a small thing, and because Keltie said she was tired of Ryan moping.

They had a suite of rooms in a swank casino hotel, and Pete had arranged for the whole place to be drowning in liquor. Spencer got to say a quick hello to half of Cobra Starship and half of The Cab before Ryan dragged him, stomping, out on to a balcony.

"This sucks!" Ryan said, yelling a little to be heard over Pete’s idea of mood music.

"We have to say congratulations," said Spencer stubbornly.

"Congratulations, you’re an asshole," Ryan grumbled.

Spencer punched him in the arm.

He planned to get Ryan high, because Ryan was always nicer when he was stoned, but Pete and Brendon came tripping out on to the balcony a second later. Brendon looked exhausted and sweaty and he was laughing at something Pete had said.

"Ross!" said Pete, grabbing Ryan in a headlock that was also sort of a hug.

"Get off me, my _hair_ ," Ryan complained, trying not to smile.

Brendon’s face was red and he smelled like beer. "Thanks for coming," he said, looking at Spencer and not Ryan.

"Dude, of course," said Spencer.

"It’s… Nice," said Ryan grudgingly. He and Brendon stared at each other for a minute.

"Yo, someone needs to hit the bong," said Pete. "I’ll be back, dude." He patted Brendon on the shoulder and then pulled Ryan back into the party.

Brendon leaned on the railing and the wind ruffled his hair. Vegas never really got cold, but it was a little chilly after dark. "Really, it was cool of you to show up," he said, tripping over the words a little.

"How wasted are you?" asked Spencer.

Brendon laughed. "I’m like… You remember Pittsburgh?"

"Oh, shit, dude. Are you gonna throw up on me?"

"Nah. I just need to get some air." Brendon leaned so far over the railing that for a second Spencer thought he was going to fall to his death. Spencer leaned over and grabbed the back of Brendon’s shirt. It was all sweaty.

"Please don’t swan dive," he said.

Brendon sighed. "Okay." He turned around and leaned against the railing, shutting his eyes for a second. "The tour starts tomorrow," he said. "It’s gonna suck."

"You _love_ touring," said Spencer. "That’s why you’re doing this, right?"

"I thought I was doing it to hurt Ryan’s feelings," Brendon said, lightly mocking. Spencer punched his arm. "Nah, I just… It’s a lot of shows, and I don’t know how to do a whole set by myself," said Brendon. "I’m opening second, we haven’t opened second since forever. And I’m sharing a bus and I don’t have a tech and you won’t – I mean. I’m traveling by myself. I don’t know if I like that."

 _Then don’t go without us_ , Spencer almost said. He swallowed it down instead. "You’ll be great. I expect you to call me every fucking day."

Brendon laughed. "You could come with me if you’re that bored," he said. "Pete wouldn’t mind."

"I’m not bored."

"Ha."

"I’m _not_. I’m only ten pages into Anna Karenina. Ryan says it’s life-changing."

Brendon laughed so hard he started to cry. "Oh my god, Spence," he said, leaning on the railing for support. "That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard."

Spencer tried to be annoyed, but it was hard not to laugh when Brendon was laughing. "So stay home and entertain me," he said.

Brendon shook his head. "I… I’ll call, okay? I miss hanging out with you. With all of you."

"Yeah," said Spencer, looking at his hands where they were holding on to the railing. "I miss you. I mean, we do. Ryan does, he just won’t say so."

Brendon shrugged. "I get it," he said.

Spencer dug his phone out of his pocket. "Call Jon so he can congratulate you and tell you what a genius Paz is. Did you know she’s standing up? Yesterday she figured out how to –"

"—How to hold on to the table and walk herself to the other side of the living room to steal his donut, I know," Brendon laughed. "I thought he was bad about the _cats_ , dude." He flipped open Spencer’s phone and flashed Spencer a grin. "Jonny Walker! You are missing a hell of a party, dude, listen!" Brendon said, pushing open the door to the suite.

Spencer folded his arms and shivered a little.

\--

Brendon called after the first night of the tour, but just to say, "Oh my god, I’m going to die, have to go!" Then he skipped a couple of days. Spencer tried not to be too curious, because every time he mentioned it Ryan looked like he wanted to strangle someone.

He called Brendon in the early afternoon, when he thought he might be awake but not warming up yet. "Dude," Brendon said. "This is amazing."

"Yeah?" said Spencer. A tiny part of him still wished it was going badly; that was what Brendon deserved for abandoning him. He petted Hobo absently with one hand. "What’s up?"

"It’s hilarious. You would be laughing your ass off. I can’t find my CDs, I suck at teching for myself, I was late yesterday, and everyone else on the tour knows each other." Brendon laughed. "You would not believe what a disaster it is. But it’s _touring_ , you know? Performing. It’s great."

Spencer did know, and he was surprised at how suddenly and intensely he wanted to be out on tour again. "So it’s fine, but you’re a disaster," he said. "What city are you in right now?"

"I’m… not sure? The venue looks kind of familiar. It’s uh… squarish, and there’s a sidewalk out front."

"If you figure out where you are I can come visit," said Spencer.

Brendon paused. "I… You don’t have to do that," he said. "I know you have a busy schedule of hanging out with Ryan all the time. I don’t want to get interfere with all your best friend time."

A year or two earlier Spencer had figured out the difference between Brendon’s ‘just kidding’ tone and his ‘just kidding because my feelings are hurt’ tone. It made Spencer miss him, even if he was being kind of a bitch.

Spencer wanted to get out of Vegas. He loved hanging out with Ryan and Hobo, but he’d had plenty of time to do that. He missed being annoyed by Brendon’s chatter. He missed the rush of setting up for the show, and he missed being trapped on a bus where no one expected him to do dishes or eat broccoli with dinner.

"Seriously," Spencer said. "Figure out where you are, space cadet, and I’ll come out. Just for a day or two, you know. Then I can come back and tell Ryan how bad you suck. It’ll be great."

"Ryan would never forgive me," said Brendon. "Like, he thinks he’s mad now? But if I stole you he’d _never_ get over it."

"Whatever," said Spencer. His stomach hurt. If Brendon didn’t want him around that was fine; he wasn’t going to beg.

"I – No, Spencer –" Brendon sighed. There was a long pause. Hobo whined and stuck her cold nose on Spencer’s hand so he’d start petting again. "I’m gonna be in Philadelphia tomorrow and the day after," said Brendon. "For the record, that is _not_ an invitation, it’s an announcement."

Spencer grinned. "Oh, good," he said. "Because I am way too busy to come hang out with you."

"Yeah, I can tell. What would Hobo do without someone to pet her twelve hours a day?"

"What do _you_ do without someone to pet you twelve hours a day?"

"I have to go do a show," said Brendon. "To which you are not invited."

"I won’t see you later, then," said Spencer. Brendon hung up and Spencer went to pack.

\--

Ryan kicked Spencer’s suitcase a couple of times. "Will you at least sabotage his set for me?" he asked.

"No," said Spencer.

"You suck," said Ryan.

"Yeah," said Spencer. He put his hands on his hips. "You hugging me goodbye?"

Ryan gave Spencer a hug, pointy elbow digging in to Spencer’s shoulder and scarf getting in Spencer’s mouth. "When are you coming back?"

"Can’t live without me for a couple of days," Spencer teased, but he was grateful for it. "You go plan a wedding. Something where your guests don’t have to climb a mountain to get to the ceremony."

"Beach," said Ryan. "That’s Keltie’s new idea. Getting married on the beach. You think?"

"It’s very you," Spencer agreed. He backed up and grabbed his bag. "I’ll call you a lot," he said.

"You’d better." Someone honked at Ryan’s illegal airport drop-off parking. "Tell him… I mean, don’t say that I… Whatever, never mind, don’t tell him anything from me."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Okay, I’ll just accidentally mention how you’re crying yourself to sleep at night because he’s not around," he said, and headed through the glass doors.

"That’s not funny!" Ryan yelled. "You’re not funny, Spencer!"

\--

Spencer arrived while Brendon was performing, which meant he got the world’s sweatiest hug when Brendon was done. "You actually came," said Brendon a couple of times. "Holy shit, how bored were you?"

"What, I have to be miserable to want to visit you?" Spencer joked.

Brendon waited just a second too long before he said, "Of course not. Hey, so, let me introduce you to everybody, this is Adam and that’s Joe and you know Dan and Dan from Pete’s last – remember? – and this is Virginia, don’t let her near your clothes, she’ll fuck them up."

"Dude," said Spencer, but Brendon wouldn’t be dissuaded from his mission to drag Spencer past every single person on the tour and introduce him. Spencer wasn’t going to remember anyone.

Eventually they ended up in the parking lot, where a bunch of roadies and techs were smoking. "Is this Pete’s underage tour?" asked Spencer. Everyone looked twelve years old.

Brendon laughed. "I feel _old_ ," he said. "This is my mid-life crisis, isn’t it."

"You’d better live to be more than forty-eight," said Spencer, rolling his eyes. "This is just you being… You."

Brendon beamed at him. "Exactly," he said. "Oh my god, wait until you see the bus I’m sharing it’s like… The smallest bus I’ve ever seen. Zack would have to walk around like a hunchback, not that he’d fit through the door."

"Doll-sized, just like you," Spencer said.

"You wait until you have to try and fit in the bunks," Brendon warned. "Then you’ll be sorry you’re so tall."

He was so happy. Spencer could see it all over his face, in the way he was standing, in the tone of his voice. Brendon hadn’t sounded like that in a while, not since the last tour, before Jon got the news from Cassie. Spencer liked the way he glowed a little bit, the way he bounced up on the balls of his feet because he couldn’t contain himself.

"So you got somewhere for me to dump my stuff?" Spencer asked.

"Mi bunk es su bunk," said Brendon. "Kidding, you totally have your own."

"Well, good," said Spencer. "You kick, and you steal all the blankets."

"One time, Spencer Smith, _one time_ ," said Brendon, aggrieved. He bumped Spencer with his shoulder and grinned at him a little, like they were sharing the best joke ever.

"I’m glad I’m out here," said Spencer. He couldn’t put it into words, exactly, but he felt better than he had in a while.

"Yeah?" said Brendon, and for just a second he sounded uncertain. "Okay. Well, me too, then."

\--

  
The tour was a giant mess because the headlining band had never headlined before, and nearly everyone else was on their first tour. Brendon knew what he was doing onstage, but off stage he was a disorganized disaster.

There was allegedly a box full of his CDs for selling somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He missed two interviews because he’d forgotten to write down what day they were. And he kept showing up late because he didn’t have Zack around to drag him off the bus when he was napping.

"You flew out to babysit?" said Ryan, and Spencer could hear him rolling his eyes.

"No. But I can’t just… I mean, if it was you, and let’s just say your electricity got turned off—" Spencer started.

"Shut up, that was _one time_ ," said Ryan.

Spencer sighed in to the phone. "Right," he said. "So I’m not babysitting, I’m just being a good friend."

"You like being bossy," said Ryan.

Spencer shrugged.

"Fine, enjoy yourself. Hey, what if I wore a white tuxedo and Keltie wore a black dress? Do you think—"

"My mother would kill you both," said Spencer. "Dude. No."

"You’re such a traditionalist," said Ryan witheringly.

"Guilty as charged. Hey, I have to go, we’re playing tournament Guitar Hero, and my team is up."

"You’re going to win; you have Brendon."

"Right, but it’s no fun to win if I’m not there to gloat." There was screaming from on the bus. "Tell Keltie I said hi."

"Fine, fine," Ryan grumbled, and Spencer ran in to catch up on the game.

\--

Touring included almost as much downtime as lying around on Ryan’s couch, which Spencer had forgotten. It had been a long time since he’d toured without being the headliner, and without needing to promote anything. He kicked around for a couple of days keeping himself busy with Brendon’s to-do list and his calendar, but mostly Spencer ended up standing around venues watching Brendon smoke and wishing he owned a warmer winter coat.

"Pete thinks I should get a band for the next tour," said Brendon. He was never cold, not even when there was snow on the ground like there was in – where were they? Spencer needed to check the calendar. Boston, maybe.

Spencer nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth. Brendon wasn’t supposed to be planning a next tour already, this one wasn’t even halfway over. It freaked Spencer out a little.

"I don’t know, though, that feels kind of weird to me," said Brendon. "If there are gonna be instruments, I should be playing them, right?"

"I guess," said Spencer. "You know you can’t play them all by yourself at once, right?"

"I could if I tried hard enough," Brendon insisted. He jumped up and down a couple of times. "I bet I could at least play guitar and drums at the same time. Like, if Rick Allen can do it with one arm, and I have two—"

"We are not getting you a one-armed drumset," said Spencer immediately.

Brendon pouted. "Please?" he said, batting his eyes.

Spencer shivered. "I don’t know why you think that works on me," he said. "That’s never worked on me."

"It works on lots of people," said Brendon.

"Yeah, but not me," said Spencer. "I’m immune to you."

Brendon sidled up right next to him, pressing into Spencer’s space. He was warm like a radiator, so Spencer didn’t mind that much. "No one is immune to me," said Brendon. "Look at this ass." He bumped Spencer with his hip.

It was a great ass, but Brendon didn’t need the encouragement. "Ehhh," said Spencer. "I’ve seen better."

"What? Where? No, you haven’t," said Brendon. "Ryan doesn’t have an ass—"

"And I’m not hooking up with Ryan," Spencer agreed.

Brendon blinked. "You aren’t hooking up with me, either," he said.

His chin was almost on Spencer’s shoulder, and his breath was turning to fog in the air between them. Spencer shivered again, cheeks heating up. "I didn’t mean…" he started. "I wouldn’t… If I _were_ going to hook up with you, your ass wouldn’t be a factor, I think was my point."

Brendon stared at him, totally quiet, just for a minute. Then he grinned, "My ass is _always_ a factor. Admit it, Spencer, you’re hot for my body."

"I’m cold," Spencer said. "Can we go inside now?"

Brendon shrugged and dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk, stomping it out with his sneaker. "Yeah," he said. "Wimp."

"Shut up," said Spencer, and followed him into the venue.

\--

Brendon’s set in New York went badly. Panic had played plenty of bad shows, but Spencer felt it more sharply when it was Brendon up on stage by himself. The amps weren’t plugged in right and the balance was off and Brendon had been up too late drinking with the techs the night before, and the audience seemed half-dead. Brendon stormed off stage and stomped into the bus.

Spencer followed him cautiously. It was weird sharing a bus with lots of people Spencer didn’t really know, and he didn’t need any of them watching him talk Brendon down from a hissy fit. Most of them were backstage, though, and Brendon had the couch entirely to himself.

"Hey," said Spencer, sitting down next to him.

Brendon’s face was hard and grumpy. "Don’t," he said flatly.

"Don’t what?" Spencer asked. Jon always made this shit look easy. He tried putting an arm around Brendon’s shoulders.

Brendon shrugged him off and slid away from him on the couch. " _Don’t_ ," he repeated. "I’m not a little kid, I don’t need a cuddle."

"I just thought—" Spencer started.

"I fucked up, I’ll deal with it," said Brendon. He stood up and paced for a second, and then threw himself back down on the couch. "Christ, I don’t need to be baby talked, okay? You guys are always – I just need some fucking space."

Spencer held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, dude, I was just trying to help," he said.

"Well I don’t—I’m not – Screw your pity hugs," said Brendon. He always tripped over his sentences when he was upset.

"It’s not a pity hug," Spencer said. "I like hugging you."

Brendon deflated. "Fuck. That’s not fair."

"And you like getting hugged," Spencer added carefully. "It’s not because I think you’re childish. I just think you’re… tactile." He moved one arm out on the couch, making it clear that if Brendon didn’t want to touch him he didn’t have to. Brendon wavered, but he moved over a little, just enough to not-quite lean on Spencer’s shoulder. There was still space between them; Spencer wasn’t touching Brendon, but he could feel the heat of Brendon’s arm.

"I fucked up," said Brendon quietly. "I _hate_ that. And don’t say ‘it happens to everyone,’ I’ll hit you, I swear I will."

"You fucked up," Spencer agreed. "So you’ll do better next time."

Brendon sighed and leaned against Spencer. "You think?"

"Remember the show where we had to stop halfway through a song because I was playing too slowly?" said Spencer.

Brendon laughed a little. "Did Ryan send you out here to sabotage me?" he asked. "You can’t do it, right, because I’m too pathetic."

Spencer flicked him on the nose. "I’m not here because I feel sorry for you," he said.

"So why are you here?" asked Brendon.

Spencer shrugged a little uncomfortably. "I like being on tour," he said. "I like hanging out with you."

"Even when I suck?"

"Especially when you suck. That way I can call Ryan and gloat."

Brendon poked him in the side. "You don’t really, right?"

"Nah." Spencer shifted his arm so it was around Brendon. It was kind of a more manly hug. He liked how Brendon didn’t mind being physically close; Ryan had never been a huge fan.

Brendon tilted his face up. "I like having you around, Spencer Smith," he said quietly. This, Spencer thought with a pang, was almost how it had been with Haley, back when things had been good. He didn’t feel this comfortable with many people, he didn’t understand many people this well. Except it was better than it had been with Haley, because he had understood her, but she had never really gotten him.

"Are you—" Brendon started, voice going low and hoarse.

"Am I what?" asked Spencer.

Brendon shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. I’m gonna go for a walk until I feel better. I’ll see you later."

Spencer shrugged and let him go. Then he texted Ryan, _Bden being weirder than usual_.

Ryan replied, _How can u tell?_ and Spencer laughed.

\--

Brendon drowned his sorrows in half a case of beer and a tech named Angela. She wasn’t his type at all, as near as Spencer had figured Brendon’s type out over the years. Except that when he was upset, Brendon’s type became "here." Not even available; god knew he’d gotten the band in trouble fucking around with people in relationships more than once. He just looked for whomever was closest and willing.

Spencer knew glaring at Brendon wouldn’t do any good, so he didn’t bother. Still, he didn’t much appreciate walking around the corner and seeing Brendon with one hand up Angela’s shirt, apparently while trying to swallow her tongue.

"Get a room," Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

Brendon ignored him. To be fair, he was pretty busy at the time.

\--

It was an awesome party. The music was ridiculously loud, the joints being passed around were the really good stuff, and there was an endless supply of beer. Spencer was sitting on the couch with this kid named Rusty who played drums, and a tech named Eddie who’d been on tour with Panic a couple of years ago.

"It’s cool of you to come hang out," said Eddie, shouting over the noise in the hotel room. "I thought your band would be pissed."

"Nah," Spencer yelled back. He was too mellow to consider being pissed at anyone at the moment. "It’s Brendon. He’s like… You know. He’s _Brendon_."

"I think he’s getting hotter, too," said Eddie. Spencer stared disapprovingly at him. "What? Fuck you, you know you guys blew up because he and Ross are the prettiest." Eddie rolled his eyes.

"He’s Brendon, he’s not… Y’know. Hot," said Spencer. Rusty laughed and Eddie raised a skeptical, drunken eyebrow. "Or if he is, it’s none of my fucking business," said Spencer. "Or yours, so shut up."

"Dude. Fine. It’s no one’s business but his that he’s hooked up with half the tour, I guess," Eddie said. Spencer smacked him on the arm.

It was unfortunate that Brendon chose that minute to tear himself away from the person he’d been hitting on, to sit in Spencer’s lap instead. His Corona sloshed dangerously, and Spencer pushed it away. He didn’t need a beer bath.

"Hi," said Brendon, batting his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Spencer’s neck, and his mouth was way, way too close to Spencer’s for comfort. "Damn you look good, and I’m drunk," Brendon sang, trying for breathy and seductive but mostly giggling.

"Yeah, you are, get off me," Spencer said, halfheartedly shoving at Brendon, because Eddie was smirking.

"No, no, I’m serious," said Brendon. He almost hit Spencer in the head with his bottle. "Am I the kind of girl you’d take home to mom?"

"I’ve taken you home lots of times," said Spencer. "My mom loves you. You had Thanksgiving with us twice, remember?"

Brendon looked thoughtful. "Your mom is hot," he said.

"Oh, gross," groaned Spencer.

Brendon laughed, resting his forehead against Spencer’s shoulder. His breath was making Spencer’s neck feel clammy and a little sticky with beer. "She is, though," said Brendon. "You get that hip thing from her. And your bad temper. And your hair, I think." He tugged on the hair that was curling over Spencer’s collar, because Spencer hadn’t bothered to cut it in, god, a year nearly.

"And you get your low fucking tolerance from _your_ mom," said Spencer. "Mormons can’t hold their liquor."

Brendon sat up, looking mildly offended. "I never even had a _soda_ until I was thirteen, what do expect?" he asked. "Plus, I’m the only ex-Mormon you know, so you shouldn’t gener… General… Gen—"

"Generalize," said Spencer, and nearly got knocked in the head by Brendon, gesturing wildly with his beer bottle.

"Yes, _that_ ," Brendon agreed. "It’s bad form."

Spencer started laughing. "Being a drunken asshole’s okay, though?" he said. "Getting to third base in front of a whole bunch of strangers is totally cool?"

Brendon poked him in the chest. "Judgey," he said. "You’re just jealous."

"I don’t want to get to third base with you," said Spencer, frowning.

Brendon burst into giggles. "I meant," he said. "I meant you wanted _her._ "

Eddie was openly laughing at both of them. Spencer’s face got a little red. "Shut up," he said. "I don’t want to get to any base with either of you."

It couldn’t have been coincidence that Brendon ground down against Spencer’s lap a little. Spencer tried not to gasp. He just hadn’t had sex in a while, he told himself firmly. "Stop," said Spencer.

"You wouldn’t take me home, huh," said Brendon, sighing.

"You’re drunk and stupid," said Spencer.

"I mean, to Ryan," said Brendon.

Spencer frowned. "You already know Ryan. What are you talking about—"

"Nothing, never mind, it’s cool," said Brendon. He tipped off Spencer’s lap and landed on the floor, laughing. "Oh my god, I think I’m really drunk, Spencer."

"No shit," said Spencer, but he stood up and pulled Brendon to his feet, too. "I think we should split. We’re too old for this."

"Party like a rockstar," Brendon sang to himself. Spencer took the beer out of his hand and gave it to Eddie, who was still laughing at them, and he dragged Brendon out.

\--

Brendon was sort of hot, Spencer noted uncomfortably, with his hair a little shaggier and his jeans as tight as always, and no Ryan to cajole him into wearing bizarrely flowered shirts. He wasn’t shaving as often, and he was wearing his glasses more, and Spencer hadn’t ever thought of himself as someone who found bedhead and glasses and stubble attractive, but hey.

Maybe that was one of the reasons things hadn’t worked out with Haley, Spencer thought, and laughed at himself.

Attractive or not, Brendon was still _Brendon_ ; he stole Spencer’s t-shirts and then lost them, he unapologetically ate off Spencer’s plate when Spencer wasn’t looking, and he texted Spencer dirty messages when Spencer was in the same room.

_wen she leans ovr u can c shes not wearing a bra._

Spencer rolled his eyes and elbowed Brendon in the side, hard. Brendon laughed.

 _y don’t u care? rnt u lonely?_ Brendon texted a minute later.

"I’m going to turn this off," said Spencer, deliberately not looking at the girl who was warming up on stage.

_u look lonely 2 me, SS._

Spencer held up his phone so Brendon could see him turning it off. "Why are you so worried about my loneliness?" asked Spencer.

"You’re going to get bored and leave me for Ryan," Brendon said lightly. "You’ve already been here for like, three weeks. I’m trying to hedge my bets."

"I can’t leave; you don’t know where you’re supposed to be at four this afternoon." Spencer shrugged. "I figure I have to stick around until the tour ends, right?"

"Yeah?" Brendon smiled uncertainly. "But that’s another two weeks. Aren’t you—"

"I’m not lonely," Spencer said, trying not to snap. "Okay? Jesus."

Brendon hummed to himself, miming playing a keyboard. "Okay," he said. "If you’re sure."

\--

Spencer heard screaming and rolled his eyes. The girls lining up outside the venues tended to shriek any time anyone walked by. There wasn’t a ton of security around to stop them, because even the headlining band were pretty unknown. Spencer had only been recognized at two of the shows, and those girls had mostly elbowed each other and stared, wide-eyed, which he was used to.

"What’s going on?" said Rusty, looking up from the amp he was fiddling with.

"No idea," said Spencer. There was another shriek. "I’ll go look, maybe someone actually famous stopped by."

"Says you," Rusty yelled after him.

Spencer pushed open the back door. There were a group of girls clustered around Brendon, and two of them had a pretty tight grip on his arm. Spencer frowned. "Hey, hey, hang on—" Brendon was saying, and his smile looked strained.

It happened so fast that Spencer almost missed it. One girl reached out and grabbed Brendon’s hair, just as another looked up and recognized Spencer. There was a shriek that distracted Spencer just long enough for Brendon to get yanked aside – he stumbled and almost fell, disappearing into a sea of reaching arms and clawing fingers.

Spencer’s mind went blank. He elbowed a girl in the face – she was younger than his sisters, shit – grabbing for Brendon, trying to pull him back toward the door. He was yelling, mostly nonsense like, "Stop, yo, what the fuck!" but no one could hear him because everyone was shrieking.

The door behind him banged open again and Rusty and another guy from the opening band were there, shoving at the girls. Everyone was yelling, and then suddenly Spencer had both hands on Brendon and knocked people aside, dragging him back in.

The venue door slammed shut behind them.

Rusty was wide-eyed and shaking a little. "Holy _shit_ ," he said. "I changed my mind, I don’t wanna be famous."

"It’s not usually like that," Brendon said hoarsely. Spencer was holding on to his arms still, too tightly, and he could feel Brendon shaking a little.

Or maybe that was Spencer. He suddenly tasted copper in his mouth, and his heart was pounding in his ears, so hard it felt like the room was tipping.

"You’re bleeding," said Rusty. Spencer looked down. There was a long scratch mark on his arm, and another on Brendon’s neck.

"Shit, Spence, you okay?" said Brendon. His voice cracked on the last word, and he turned, shaking Spencer’s hands off, wrapping his arms around Spencer’s neck instead.

"I’m okay if you’re okay," said Spencer. Brendon nodded into his shoulder. He was still shaking a little bit, so Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon, holding on tightly.

"That sucked," said Brendon, muffled.

"Yeah," Spencer agreed. His mind suddenly started offering up visions of all the bad things that could have happened – trampling, hitting, tearing, stabbing – and all the crazy things Panic fans had tried to do over the years.

"Dude, my ribs," said Brendon. "I can’t breathe."

"Deal with it," said Spencer.

\--

"You called Zack?" Brendon demanded.

Spencer shrugged and stubbed out a cigarette against the venue wall. He didn’t feel the cold as long as he stayed out of the wind. And he couldn’t really feel anything except white-hot rage every time he looked at Brendon and saw the red marks all over his neck.

"I don’t need Zack," said Brendon. "I’m not… By myself I’m not—"

"I don’t care," said Spencer flatly. Brendon rubbed his hands together and scowled at him. "Stop speaking to me, throw a fit, see if I fucking care. You scared the shit out of me earlier—"

"I didn’t do anything—"

"And I promised Ryan I’d bring you back in one piece. Fuck, Brendon, I think my heart _stopped_ when that girl grabbed you. The crazy fans who wanted your blood when you were touring with us still want it, okay? And now you’re easier to get to."

Brendon bounced up and down indignantly. "One incident is no big deal," he said.

Spencer shrugged again. "I’m not gonna just sit around and wait for it to happen again," he said. He dropped his voice a little. "Do you have _any_ idea how badly that scared me? You could have gotten hurt."

"So could you," Brendon countered, but he sighed. "Fine. Get me another babysitter. Jesus Christ."

"I’m not a babysitter," Spencer said. It felt like the thousandth time he’d said it. "Knock it off. I’m here because I’m your friend."

Brendon considered that for a long minute. "I don’t know," he said finally. "I’m not… I don’t feel like a very good friend right now."

"What does that mean?" Spencer asked.

Brendon stared at his sneakers, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. "I…" he said. "I want…" He surged forward, suddenly, and kissed Spencer.

Really it was just a soft press of Brendon’s mouth against Spencer’s, just long enough for Spencer to blink and wonder what the hell was going on, and then Brendon pulled back and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"So. Anyway. Call Zack if you think you need to, worry wart." Brendon shrugged lopsidedly. "I’m gonna go warm up."

He vanished around the corner before Spencer could even think of anything to say.

\--

_r u free? im having an emergency._

Ryan called back forty seconds later. "What?" he said. "What kind of emergency? What’s going on? Are you okay? Is Brendon okay?"

Spencer was hiding out behind the bus. He didn’t actually need to be, because Brendon was performing in about three minutes. He wasn’t going to storm off stage looking for Spencer, but still.

"We’re fine," said Spencer. "Except we’re kind of not."

Ryan sighed so hard into the phone that it went all crackly. "He’s joined another band. He knocked up a fan. He’s really the crown prince of Genovia and we need to give him a makeover and send him back."

"He kissed me."

Ryan sighed. "It doesn’t mean anything, it’s Brendon. When he’s bored he makes out with whomever’s closest. I think he’d make out with Hobo. She’d probably just lick him back, too."

"Yeah, no, I know," said Spencer uncomfortably.

"In fact, didn’t he make out with Jon one time at Pete’s New Year’s party?"

Spencer wanted to strangle the phone. Ryan was being so reasonable. Spencer hated that; he was supposed to be the reasonable one. "I know, but I think this was different," said Spencer.

"Tell me you don’t think he meant anything by it," Ryan ordered. Spencer waited a second, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer, exactly. "Spencer! Jesus fucking Christ, I leave you alone for three weeks—"

"Stop," said Spencer. "I know, it’s Brendon, he’s just fucking around. I just wanted to tell you about it. So it wouldn’t be weird when I got back."

"Mmm hmm," said Ryan. His tone made it clear he knew Spencer was lying, but he was letting it go. "And when are you coming back?"

Spencer pulled his scarf a little tighter and sat down on a cinderblock behind the bus. "End of the tour, I guess," he said. "We’re getting Zack out here ASAP. Some girl mauled Brendon, he was fucking bleeding she yanked on him so hard."

"Is he okay?" asked Ryan. "I knew this was a bad idea. Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea."

"It’s not like they never tried when it was all four of us," Spencer pointed out.

"Right, but I was there," Ryan said. "I could… I don’t know, yell for Zack."

"Distract the fans with your bony ass."

"Right."

Spencer sighed. "It’s fun being out here," he said. "But it’d be more fun with you and Jon."

"Well, then, don’t let Brendon go getting big starry eyes about his own fucking tours, okay? And don’t let him… Spencer. Be careful."

"I’m fine," said Spencer. He felt cold and his stomach hurt. "I’ll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," said Ryan.

\--

Brendon played cards with Dan and Rusty until well after midnight, and then he came back to the bus doing what he had always considered "sneaking." Brendon was the loudest person Spencer had ever met, especially when he was trying to be quiet. He tripped over the couch and knocked a mug on the floor and burst into giggles.

At least three people in the bunks groaned and yelled something like, "Shut _up_ , Brendon!"

Spencer rolled out of bed and walked barefoot out to the living room. "Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair.

Brendon pulled himself to his feet. "Did I wake you up?" he said, a little sheepishly. "You weren’t around after the show, I figured maybe you were asleep."

"No, I… I had to make some phone calls."

Brendon nodded. "Ryan?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Okay," said Brendon. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet a couple of times. "Next time tell him I said hi."

"He says not to let any more fans try and get your blood," said Spencer. It was so awkward, and it was worse because there were people _right there_ , listening.

Brendon’s jeans were so low that he could just barely squeeze the tips of his fingers into his pockets. "I’ll work on that," he said.

"Okay," said Spencer.

"Okay," said Brendon.

It was dark in the lounge. Spencer could hear people snoring in the bunks, and other people breathing impatiently, waiting for them to shut up so they could get to sleep. "Six more shows," said Spencer.

Brendon nodded a couple of times. "Glad you’re sticking around," he said. "I’m gonna… G’night."

"Night," said Spencer. Brendon pushed past him and into the dark without tripping over anything else, and Spencer sighed and went back to bed.

\--

The cool thing about Zack was he took over immediately, and suddenly Spencer didn’t have that much to do anymore. He spent more time hanging out with the bands and less time trying to keep Brendon organized, because Zack was way better at that anyway.

"You look bored," said Brendon, hanging off his shoulder in the lounge.

Spencer tried to shrug him off, but Brendon was clingy like a baby koala when he wanted to be. Then again, the one time Spencer had met a baby koala the stupid thing had tried to bite him. "Zack made me superfluous," he said.

Brendon made a face. "Just because Ryan’s not here doesn’t mean I need you getting all Scrabble champion on me," he said.

"Useless, I’m useless," Spencer translated. "And yeah, a little bored."

"I have an idea how we could amuse ourselves," said Brendon, leering outrageously.

Spencer didn’t say anything, so Brendon untangled himself from Spencer and sat up. "I was just kidding," he said uncomfortably. "Relax, Spence, I’m not gonna—"

"Wait," said Spencer, catching his arm.

Brendon looked at him doubtfully. "Sorry, I was just playing," Brendon said, but he didn’t try and pull away.

"I know," said Spencer. "But if you weren’t…"

He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He’d never really consider how he’d make the offer. Spencer looked at Brendon, who was inexplicably flushed and breathing hard.

"I’m not interested in just kidding," Spencer said. He let go of Brendon and turned back to his phone.

Brendon sat there for a long time, not saying anything.

\--

"She is talking," Jon insisted. "Wait, listen. Okay, Paz, say hi! Say hi, honey!"

There was a load of babble and spitting noises on Spencer’s phone, but nothing that could conceivably have been a word.

"There, see?" Jon said triumphantly. "She can say daddy!"

"If you say so," Spencer agreed.

"Dude, clear as a bell! Daddy!" Jon made a cooing noise and Spencer rolled his eyes.

Brendon was trying not to laugh, and having a really hard time of it. He was on the brink of crying, shoulders shaking. Spencer tried not to look.

"Did you hear that?" Spencer asked Brendon. Brendon shook his head. "Yeah, we vote no."

"I can’t believe you guys are hating on my baby!" Jon said.

Brendon fell over on the couch. Spencer kicked him. "We love your baby," Spencer assured Jon. "You just happen to also be insane."

Paz, on the other end of the phone, said, "Bah bah bah dada."

"Holy shit," said Brendon, sitting up. "You heard that?"

"I told you!" Jon yelled. "She can totally say daddy!"

"Say Brendon," Brendon demanded. "C’mon, baby girl, say Brendon."

"She’s not gonna say Brendon before she says mommy," Jon pointed out.

"Especially not when she hasn’t seen you in what, three months?" Spencer added.

Brendon made a tremendously pouty face.

"Speaking of which," said Jon. "Uh. How’s the whole… The whole tour thing?"

Spencer looked curiously at Brendon, who tended to lie when cornered. "Fantastic," said Brendon automatically, and then caught Spencer looking at him. "I mean, uh. Kind of weird without you and Ryan around. I like performing, but I don’t like going on stage by myself as much as… You should come see a show, dude."

"You should come to Chicago," Jon countered. "I’m not traveling much these days."

"You could rent an apartment in Vegas, and you and Cassie could come out and stay for a while," Spencer suggested.

"Maybe," said Jon. "I don’t know, I’ll have to run it by—Awww, man. I have to go. Diaper issues."

After they hung up, Brendon sighed and flopped on the couch a little. "Aren’t we kind of young to have babies and second houses and shit?" he asked wistfully.

Spencer petted his shoulder. "Ryan and Jon have both been ninety since they were nineteen," he said.

Brendon giggled again. "Thus, the grandpa sweaters," he said.

Spencer laughed. "What bunch of teenage rockstars _doesn’t_ wear striped cardigans and sweater vests?"

"None I wanna be a part of," Brendon said. "Diaper problems, Jesus. Hey, we should go visit Jon when the tour’s done. Before Paz gets a boyfriend and moves out and we miss the whole thing."

"Yeah, okay," said Spencer. "Is this a serious thing, like I should buy tickets, or is this a goofy Brendon forget-about-it-five-minutes-later thing?"

"Serious," said Brendon. "I’m gonna buy her stuff, so she doesn’t like Ryan best. That’d be fucked up."

"Yeah," Spencer agreed, and started surfing for tickets.

\--

By the end of the tour Brendon’s set was really solid.

"Don’t tell me that," Ryan said. "I don’t wanna hear that."

"We’re going to Chicago, you and Keltie should come too," said Spencer.

"Tell me exactly what he’s playing and what it sounds like," Ryan ordered. "No, don’t. Wait, yes, do."

"You’ve heard the CD, that’s what he’s playing," Spencer said patiently.

"It’s not selling, right?"

"Could you be a little less of a bastard?"

Ryan was apologetically quiet. "I’m just…" he said finally. "Listen. Tell him I said congratulations, okay?"

"We’ll be back in Vegas after we’re back in Chicago. Or you could call him yourself."

"He doesn’t want me to, I don’t think," Ryan said.

Spencer closed his eyes and prayed for patience. "Don’t," he said. "Ryan, I swear to god."

"You think I should?" asked Ryan in a small voice.

"Yes," Spencer managed. The ‘you fucking idiot’ was implied.

"Oh," said Ryan.

\--

The end of tour party was out of control. Spencer tried hiding near the door, because most of the tour was under twenty-one, and hadn’t learned anything about holding their liquor yet. Spencer didn’t need teenager vomit all over himself; he and Brendon had a pretty early flight to Chicago scheduled.

"Were we this bad?" asked Brendon.

"What do you mean ‘we,’" Spencer scoffed. "You were at least this shitfaced last week with Ronnie."

Brendon looked thoughtful. "I’ve definitely grown and changed since then," he said. "Look at me, only drinking _two beers_."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Brendon Urie?" Spencer said. "No one will ever believe this happened."

Brendon stuck his tongue out and went back to peeling the label off his beer. "I am a model of constraint," he said.

"Plus, clearly, you just learned the word constraint."

"Word-of-the-day dictionary from Keltie for my birthday."

Spencer laughed. "Seriously, you aren’t here tonight to go get fucked up?"

"Seriously," Brendon said, shaking his head.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at him. Brendon stared hard at his sneakers.

\--

Brendon refused to wake up for their flight. "Up," Spencer said. "Up, seriously, motherfucker, get _up_."

Brendon made a muffled moaning sound and burrowed further under the blankets.

"Dude," Spencer complained. "I’m gonna throw cold water on you."

"You wouldn’t, really," said Brendon around a yawn.

"Fuck yeah, I would."

Spencer made the mistake of reaching under the blankets to grab Brendon, which turned into a wrestling match, Spencer tugging on Brendon’s wrist and Brendon kicking him in the knee and blankets getting in both of their way. Spencer had to brace himself against the bed, and when Brendon finally did fall out on the floor he landed half on Spencer.

"Owww, jackass," Brendon moaned, but he was giggling.

There was a blanket between them, which was good, because Brendon slept mostly-naked. "We have to be at the airport in half an hour," Spencer said. Brendon was propped up on one hand, leaning over Spencer. It would have been easy to knock that hand out from under him, to have Brendon right on top of him, to get rid of the blanket and—

"Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna brush my teeth and put on pants and I’m good to go," said Brendon, rolling off Spencer. He got to his feet and stretched and walked into the hotel bathroom.

Spencer reminded himself sternly that Brendon’s ass in rainbow-colored underwear was something to mock, not admire.

\--

Jon and Paz were waiting at the gate of the airport. A lesser baby probably couldn’t have handled it, but Paz was perfectly happy, clinging to her dad’s sweatshirt and chewing idly on her fist. She was wearing a baby fedora, Spencer noticed, which had to be Ryan’s fault.

"Dude!" said Jon happily.

"I would hug you," said Brendon, "but, y’know, baby." He held out his hands and Paz clapped at him. That was Brendon’s cue to steal the baby, apparently. He tossed her around a little, which made her giggle, and then proceeded to baby talk her outrageously, making muppet faces.

"Dude," said Jon to Spencer, and they hugged.

"Miss you," said Spencer. "You know you’re never getting the baby back, right?"

Jon looked at Brendon, holding Paz over his head at arm’s length while she giggled and reached for his glasses. "Why do you think I invited you?" said Jon. "Free babysitting."

\--

Cassie took one look at Brendon and Paz and said, "Awesome, I call first nap."

"I already called it," said Jon, and they argued a little, trying to be the first one into the bedroom. "That room is for you guys," said Jon, pointing to the guest room, "unless one of you wants the couch. Paz gets the room with the crib and shit. Okay, see you in like, six hours."

The bedroom door shut, and Spencer said, "Napping. Right."

Brendon pretended to cover Paz’s ears. "She doesn’t need to know what they’re up to," he said primly. "Not unless it gets her a little brother or something."

"Oh my god," said Spencer, a little horrified. "They’re going to have a million kids, aren’t they? A whole _gang_ of little Walker-people."

"And they’ll all be better than you at Mario Kart," Brendon agreed. Paz made a fretful noise, and Brendon swung her around a little. "What do you need, baby girl? New diaper? Lunch? To be mine forever and ever and ever?" Paz knuckled her eyes and put her head down on his shoulder.

"I’ll put our stuff in there," said Spencer. "You don’t mind sharing, right?" They’d shared a bed a hundred times, it was no big deal, except for how Brendon was always ten degrees warmer than the room, and now there was kind of… There was kind of _something_ between them.

"I can always sleep in the crib," Brendon offered, not looking at him. He petted Paz’s head.

"Shut up," said Spencer, dragging their suitcases into the guestroom. There were baby toys all over the floor. Jon’s apartment had never been super neat, but now there was baby debris everywhere he looked. There was a stack of Baby Einstein DVDs on the pillow and three sets of pink baby shoes blocking the door from closing.

Brendon was sitting on the couch with Paz, curled up against his chest. He looked really normal like that, actually. Spencer had seen him with at least three hundred tiny Urie nephews and nieces and cousins. "You should get your own," said Spencer, sitting down next to him.

"Nah," said Brendon quietly. "I like it when you can give them back eventually." He rubbed the back of Paz’s hand until she reached out and grabbed his finger, clinging sleepily.

Spencer kicked his feet up on the table, dislodging a small army of baby bottles and diaper pins. "We have to get Jon to move to Vegas, at least part-time."

"Yeah," said Brendon absently. "Hey, did I tell you, Ryan called me?"

"Oh," said Spencer, trying to sound neutral. "Yeah? What did he say?"

"Uh, congratulations and stuff. It barely sounded like you forced him into it."

"I didn’t _force_ him—"

Brendon snorted. "I think I know what Ryan sounds like when someone’s forcing him to be nice," he said.

"He’s nice on his own," said Spencer defensively. "He just needs a push sometimes."

"I’m glad you’re around to push him, then," said Brendon. "Spencer, hey…"

Spencer looked up, and Brendon was looking at him, lips pressed together, unusually serious expression on his face. "Yeah?" asked Spencer. His throat felt dry.

"I… Nothing," said Brendon, and looked away.

"What?" said Spencer. He wasn’t sure why his heart was beating so fast. "Brendon, what?" He poked Brendon in the side with one finger.

"Ow, fucker, don’t wake the baby up," Brendon ordered. "If she cries you get to tell Jon and Cassie why their special mommy-daddy time is interrupted."

"Eww," said Spencer, temporarily distracted. "Paz never cries, anyway."

"Go get her a bottle," Brendon ordered imperiously. Spencer sighed and got up, and forgot to interrogate him about what he’d been going to say.

\--

They had dinner with Jon and Cassie, and Paz went to sleep early enough that they all got to hang out and do nothing for a while, with Sports Center on in the background. "Tell me about your solo tour," said Cassie, smacking Brendon’s leg.

He laughed. "It’s good," he said. "It was, I guess. It was really weird to be up there by myself, I don’t know, I like the audience."

"Okay, but did you quit the band?" Cassie asked.

There was a really long silence. Jon started to stand up, saying, "I think someone should check on the baby—"

"She’s fine," said Cassie. "C’mon, Brendon."

Brendon looked at Spencer, who shrugged and tried to focus on the TV, not the weird boiling feeling in his stomach.

"Of course I didn’t quit," said Brendon finally. "I couldn’t… I wouldn’t know what to do… No. But they were on a break and I needed something to do, so." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Okay," said Cassie, and kissed his cheek. "I was just checking."

Brendon fidgeted with his shoelaces. Spencer leaned over and put a hand on Brendon’s knee, to stop it from bouncing up and down.

"Who wants dessert?" Jon asked. "We have brownies. Just regular ones, though."

"Me," said Spencer. "And Brendon."

Cassie said, "Who wants to see the four hundred pictures Jon took last week of Paz in the park?" and things got back to normal.

\--

Spencer and Brendon had shared beds before, but it felt smaller this time for some reason. Maybe because he was more aware of Brendon than usual, or maybe because Brendon seemed more restless than usual. He was all elbows and knees, rolling over and trying to get comfortable and then rolling over again. Every time he moved he bumped into Spencer.

"Dude, seriously," said Spencer.

Brendon sat up. "I can go sleep on the couch," he offered. "I can’t… I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway."

He threw back the blankets. Spencer sat up, too, and grabbed his arm. "No, hang on," he said. "You just need to relax. C’mon." He pulled Brendon backwards until he was lying down again, rigid under Spencer’s hand. "Deep breaths," Spencer ordered. He moved over until he was lying pressed against Brendon’s side, deliberately breathing slowly.

Brendon was burning hot, and Spencer could feel his heart racing. "Seriously, just relax," said Spencer.

"You’re not really conducive to me feeling relaxed," said Brendon, with a rueful little laugh.

Spencer thought about that for a second. And then, like he’d been wanting to do for a while, he leaned over and kissed Brendon.

Brendon didn’t move, which was weird, but he was sort of pinned under Spencer’s arm. Spencer waited for a heartbeat, and then Brendon opened his mouth, winding his arms around Spencer and pulling him up on top of Brendon. He bit at Spencer’s lip and rubbed his hips against Spencer’s.

Spencer felt hot and tingly all over. He hadn’t realized he knew what Brendon smelled like until he was surrounded by it. He wanted to rip off his t-shirt so he was touching Brendon everywhere, and he wanted Jon and Cassie not to be sleeping in the next room over, so he could make Brendon yell. He was sure he could make Brendon yell; they’d overheard each other having sex on the buses enough that Spencer was confident about Brendon’s volume in bed.

It took all of Spencer’s self-control to make him straighten his arms, so he was holding himself over Brendon. Brendon’s chest was heaving, mouth redder than usual, and even in the dark Spencer could tell his eyes were a little unfocused. "Hi," Brendon laughed.

"I’m serious," said Spencer as sternly as he could manage. "I don’t want kidding around, Brendon, are you… You’ve been acting like you want me. So if you don’t, tell me. I’ll go sleep on the couch."

"And leave me here, all by myself?" Brendon teased, running his hand over Spencer’s chest.

Spencer closed his eyes. "Stop," he said. "Brendon—"

Brendon grabbed Spencer’s t-shirt with both hands and pulled until Spencer landed on top of him. Brendon leaned up and kissed him, open-mouthed, tongue winding lazily around Spencer’s. He was a good kisser, Spencer had to admit. Of course, he’d had enough practice.

"I want you," Brendon said quietly. "If I wore a sign on my shirt, if I _painted it on my forehead_ I couldn’t be more obvious about it." He rolled his hips against Spencer’s, and Spencer had to bite his lip and focus on his breathing for a minute.

"Okay," said Spencer. "We can try it. We can try this."

Brendon angled his leg between Spencer’s and rolled them over. "Yeah?" he said, smiling big and goofy. "I can be good, Spencer, you wait."

"I don’t want good, I want _you_ ," said Spencer. He was a little embarrassed as soon as he’d said it, but… Hell, it was true.

Brendon grinned wickedly. "My bad is pretty spectacular," he promised, and kissed Spencer again.

\--

Jon was up when Spencer walked out to the kitchen, nursing a coffee and sitting at the island. Paz was crawling around on the floor by his feet, trying to eat a variety of colorful toys and baby hats.

"Morning," said Spencer. His voice was low and scratchy and his throat hurt a little, which was entirely Brendon’s fault.

"Hey," said Jon. "Busy night?"

Spencer stopped in the middle of pouring himself a coffee. "Uh," he said intelligently. "What do you mean?"

Jon just raised an eyebrow.

"Shit," Spencer said, "Did we wake you up?"

"I was up with Paz," Jon said. "I couldn’t help but overheard. Have you been… Is that new? Or is that why you went on tour with him?"

"It’s new," Spencer said quickly. "We’re just trying it out. To see if it works." That made Brendon sound like a new kind of soap or something, which wasn’t what Spencer meant, but he also couldn’t get rid of Ryan’s cautioning, disapproving voice in the back of his head.

"Oh," said Jon, looking a little puzzled. "Did you tell Ryan?"

Spencer wasn’t going to fidget, and he wasn’t going to be embarrassed. It was hard not to blush a little, though. "We’re going to," he said.

"Anyway, it’s none of my business," said Jon. "You want some Cheerios? They’re Paz’s food of choice."

"Sure," said Spencer, sitting down at the island. It wasn’t _that_ weird. They were all friends. It was cool.

\--

It was a little cold to go sight-seeing in Chicago, so they mostly stayed in. Jon and Cassie went grocery shopping and left Paz with them, but she was sleepy and ended up napping half the time. Brendon sang her to sleep with Backstreet Boys songs and then kept singing them, wandering Jon’s apartment.

"Dude," said Spencer. "You’ve been singing that song for an hour. Sing something else."

Brendon had been poking at Jon’s record collection, but he obligingly started humming something else. It took Spencer a second to figure out what it was.

"Not the Pussycat Dolls," Spencer groaned. "Are you seriously a twelve-year-old girl?"

Brendon gave him a dirty look. "Fuck you," he said. He walked over and straddled Spencer’s lap, singing archly, "You say you’re a big boy, but I can’t agree—"

Spencer swatted him on the leg. "Hey," he said, laughing.

"—‘cause the love you say you have ain’t been put on me—" Brendon said, leaning forward with his arms resting on Spencer’s shoulders.

"Stop," Spencer ordered. He was smiling all goofily, which probably wasn’t very useful for getting Brendon to do what he wanted. Brendon didn’t listen well even when people were being serious.

"I don’t wanna stop, we just started," Brendon complained, leaning forward for a kiss. Spencer tilted his face up. Brendon kissed him lightly a couple of times and then moved so he could bite Spencer’s ear.

"The door is open to Paz’s room," said Spencer, closing his eyes. He was shivery all over.

"Well, then, don’t wake her up," said Brendon, dropping his voice to a growl. He moved from Spencer’s ear down his neck, and everywhere he touched was burning hot. Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon’s waist, scooting him forward a little more.

"Jon and Cassie could get home any minute," Spencer added.

"Hmm," Brendon agreed. He stopped biting Spencer’s neck long enough to giggle, "I’m giving you a hickey. Because we are in seventh grade."

Brendon’s teeth hurt, but not too much; just enough to make Spencer’s whole body light up. "Do you like me, check yes or no," Spencer said.

"Depends," said Brendon, sliding his hands under Spencer’s shirt. He pushed the fingers of one hand down under Spencer’s waistband. "What are you gonna do for me?"

Spencer had a list. "You wait until we get back to Vegas," he said. His voice had dropped to a rough growl, and if Brendon didn’t move soon Paz was going to be a traumatized toddler. "And there are no interruptions, or babies, and it’s my house—"

Brendon sat up abruptly. "Why _your_ house?" he asked. "Why not mine?"

"Because—" Spencer started, and then realized _That was where Haley always stayed_ was probably a really bad answer. He hadn’t even realized he was thinking that. "Oh. No reason. We can trade off."

Brendon looked uncomfortable and a little suspicious. "So you think when we get home, that we’ll… I don’t know, are you making _plans?_ "

"For what?" Spencer asked, bewildered.

"Nothing, never mind," said Brendon. He stood up. "I’m gonna check on Paz."

"She’s fine," said Spencer, but Brendon had already gone.

\--

Spencer spent most of the flight home making lists in his head. _Ways Brendon is like Haley_. Brendon was fun, and he was funny. He was affectionate and cute and cuddly. The _Ways Brendon is nothing like Haley_ list was much longer. Brendon wasn’t jealous of the band, or the time Spencer spent touring. Brendon wasn’t likely to bring up marriage all the time. Brendon had a ferocious temper that showed up with no warning. Brendon didn’t seem to like being taken care of.

It was all stuff Spencer could adjust to. He needed to stop himself from expecting things, just because Haley had done them. That was the problem with having only dated one person really seriously. It made the transition difficult.

Brendon was snoring against the open window, but he snuffled a little and blinked sleepily at Spencer. "Planning what you’re gonna say to Ross?" he asked. His words were blurry with sleep.

"No," said Spencer. "Not yet."

"He’s gonna be pissed," Brendon sing-songed. His eyes started to sink shut again. "More pissed, I mean. You’re gonna defend me, right?"

"What could Ryan possibly do?" Spencer asked. "Glare at you? Withhold makeup?"

"You don’t know ‘cause he doesn’t get mad at you," Brendon yawned. He shifted his jacket up against the window so he could rest against it.

"He gets mad at me," Spencer objected, but Brendon was asleep again.

\--

Shane picked Brendon up at the airport. Brendon had a ton of luggage and his guitar and he needed a ride, obviously, but Spencer was a tiny bit sad that he wasn’t driving Brendon back himself. "So I’ll see you," Spencer said awkwardly. Regan and Shane were looking at them, arms full of Brendon’s stuff. "You should come over. We should… hang out."

"Is ‘hang out’ secret code for having lots of sex?" Brendon asked brightly. Shane choked a little.

Spencer’s face turned red. "It... Yeah," he said. "You totally don’t understand the _entire point_ of secret code, huh?"

"Nope," said Brendon cheerfully. He kissed Spencer, open-mouthed and a little bit lazy, until Shane cleared his throat meaningfully. "Call me when you’re free," said Brendon, backing off a step. "I’m sure you and Ryan have important best-friend stuff to do, and then—"

"You have to talk to him," said Spencer.

"Yeah, eventually. Bye," said Brendon. He waved and followed Shane and Reagan out to the parking lot.

Spencer flipped open his phone. "Hey, dude," he said. "We just landed, I’m gonna take a cab to your place, okay?"

"Is he coming with you?" asked Ryan.

"No," said Spencer. "He’s gonna go home and unpack. And then maybe he’ll come by so we can all hang out." He thought about telling Ryan over the phone that he’d slept with Brendon, and he was planning to do it again. That way if Ryan flipped out Spencer could go to his own house and avoid him. But it was probably best done in person, and Spencer wasn’t scared of Ryan. If worst came to worst, he could hide behind Keltie.

Ryan made a disgruntled noise. "I’ll see you in a few," he said.

Spencer’s heart leapt up into his throat. "Yeah," he said. He could handle this. "Okay."

\--

Ryan said, "Huh, he’s really not with you."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I told you," he said, dumping his suitcase in the living room. "What smells good?"

"Keltie got this Martha Stewart magazine subscription," said Ryan. "I’m learning to cook."

"You burned spaghetti," Spencer objected. "Twice."

Ryan shrugged. "I am growing as a person," he said. "He’s really, really not with you?" He looked over Spencer’s shoulder, like Brendon might be lurking out on the sidewalk.

"There was a terrible accident," said Spencer gravely, "and now Brendon is invisible. I hope you can forgive me."

Ryan punched him lightly on the arm. Hobo ran up and wagged her tail hopefully, until Spencer opened his hands and she figured out there were no treats in them. She barked at him and went back to sleep.

"You’ve disappointed my dog," said Ryan.

Spencer shrugged. "It’s a good thing she can only remember things for a couple of seconds then, huh? Listen, Ryan…"

"Yeah?" said Ryan, heading into the kitchen. "Oh man, my chicken’s going to burn."

"Because you are a terrible cook," Spencer agreed. "Hey, I need to tell you something."

Ryan poured chicken stock from a box into his pan and then swore as smoke bubbled up over the stove. "Motherfucker," he said. "I told Keltie I could make dinner."

"Ryan," Spencer complained. "You haven’t seen me in weeks. Can I seriously not get thirty seconds of your attention?"

Ryan stirred busily. "Is this about you and Brendon? Because Jon called."

"He… Oh."

Spencer waited, and Ryan checked on all the stuff on the stove. Spencer didn’t want to demand _So what do you think?_ in case it was something bad, but he also hated standing around in weird silence.

"So?" he said finally.

"So what?" said Ryan. "You called me about this a couple of weeks ago, I told you what I think."

"It’s… It’s good, though," said Spencer.

"Okay," said Ryan.

"I’m gonna make him come over for dinner, tomorrow maybe? You guys should talk to each other anyway, about all the… You know. There’s a lot of stuff to talk about."

Ryan nodded a little bit, but that didn’t mean he agreed. "I guess," he said.

"Ryan—"

"Look," Ryan said, a little snappish. "If you’ve decided I don’t know what I’m talking about and you’d rather hang around with him—"

"Oh my god," said Spencer, sitting heavily on a stool. "You are both insane. When did I miss the band memo about everyone fighting over me? I would have demanded presents, you know, and wooing and shit."

"I’m not _fighting with him_ over you." Ryan crossed his arms and huffed.

Spencer held out his hand. "Where’s my box of chocolates and my bouquet, jackass? How’d you get a hot girl like Keltie when you’re so completely shitty at this?"

Ryan stared at Spencer for a long minute. Then he clanged his spoon angrily against the pot side a couple of times. "You’re my best friend. What if this fucks up the band? What if he and I are having a fight? Whose side are you going to take? What if he fucks you over and you’re fighting with him, what am I supposed to do? What if you fuck him over, and he gets mad at you? What if—"

"Holy shit," said Spencer. "What if you take a deep fucking breath?"

Ryan waved his spoon around, and hot chicken grease flew through the air. Hobo came running in hopefully. "If you two fight it’s going to fuck everything up, and newsflash, he’s _really good_ at fucking things up."

"Are you warning me?" Spencer asked. "I honest to god can’t tell who you’re worried about."

"Asshole," said Ryan. "The thing is, you’re tough. You handled the whole Haley thing a lot better than I would have. If this gets fucked up, you’ll probably deal with it eventually."

"It’s been like, three days," Spencer said. "No one proposed marriage."

"Brendon’s not," said Ryan.

Spencer blinked. "Brendon’s not what?"

"Tough." Ryan sighed and grabbed a sliver of hot chicken out of the pan for Hobo, who was dancing frantically around his ankles. "I don’t think he’s actually serious about this, but if he is … Fucking this up would hurt him."

"He’s tougher than you think," said Spencer. He thought about the terrible show Brendon had played. He thought about how scary it must have been to plan a solo tour without telling the band.

"No," said Ryan quietly. "He’s not."

"Can I have dinner, or are you giving the whole thing to the mutt?" asked Spencer. He wished Brendon were there. They could have held hands under the table and made fun of Ryan, which, come to think of it, they’d been doing for years.

"No one eats until Keltie gets home," said Ryan. "I mean, except Hobo, obviously. Maybe if you were as cute as my dog—"

"I’m plenty cute." Spencer batted his eyes at Ryan.

Ryan snorted and put a lid on the pan. It was totally going to burn again. "Save it for Brendon," he said.

\--

Spencer felt really weird knocking on Brendon’s door. Shane had moved out, so it wasn’t like Spencer was going to have explain himself to anyone, plus Shane totally knew.

Still. It was weird.

Brendon answered the door with his glasses on and his hair sticking up at funny angles. "You didn’t call," he said, but he looked surprised and happy. "You’re not staying at Ryan’s?"

"I had dinner with them," said Spencer. "And then I thought, hey, I haven’t seen Brendon in like… A couple of hours."

Brendon bit his lip and looked down for a second. "Yeah," he said. "That was a long time, huh?" He looked up, watching Spencer through his lashes. He had way too much practice flirting for a total dork, Spencer thought.

"So I can come in?" Spencer asked. He didn’t know why he felt so tense; it was just Brendon. It wasn’t even a date. He’d gone over to Brendon’s house a million times.

"Well," said Brendon. He leaned against the doorframe. "I don’t know." He drawled the word out a little, crossing his arms, hip cocked against the wall.

"Oh, really?" said Spencer, stepping forward. "Maybe I can persuade you."

Brendon hummed a little and shrugged.

Spencer stepped forward again, right up in Brendon’s space. Spencer liked being a little taller; no matter how much Brendon smirked he still had to look up to meet Spencer’s eyes. Spencer put his hand on top of Brendon’s and nudged Brendon’s mouth with his own until Brendon tilted his head up further and opened his mouth for a kiss.

"So how about it?" Spencer asked, pulling back a little. His heart was racing; it was weird what kissing Brendon did to him.

Brendon blinked hazily. "You… Oh, coming in?" he said. "Were you seriously asking?" He tugged on Spencer’s shirt. "Did you miss the part where I’m totally easy for you?"

"I’m trying to be a gentleman," Spencer joked.

Brendon looked confused for a second, and then he smiled and shrugged. "Okay," he said. "Sure."

Spencer frowned, and he would have said something, but Brendon grabbed his hand and started pulling him upstairs. "You already had dinner, but I have beer and chips and shit," Brendon said. "Since you’re being gentlemanly and all. _Or_ we could skip that part. I have a really nice bed." He leered at Spencer, but the effect was ruined a little bit because he was laughing.

"We could do both," Spencer bargained, trying to figure out what felt off about this conversation.

"Right," said Brendon. "My couch is pretty awesome for sex, too. At least, Shane and Reagan never complained."

"Eww, that’s—" Spencer started, but as soon as they were in the living room Brendon plastered himself to Spencer’s front, hands tucked in Spencer’s back pockets. Brendon kissed Spencer’s jaw, and his mouth rasping over Spencer’s stubble made Spencer shiver. "Yeah, okay," said Spencer. He grabbed Brendon’s t-shirt and yanked until Brendon moved, so Spencer could pull it off over his head. Brendon’s hands went for the fly of Spencer’s jeans as Spencer kicked his sneakers off, walking Brendon backward toward the couch.

Brendon hit the couch and sat down, hard, and Spencer climbed on top of him. Spencer liked extended make out sessions and friendly groping, but Brendon always seemed sort of desperate to get straight to the sex. Spencer wasn’t going to complain. Brendon took off his glasses and dropped them on the rug, and then got Spencer’s jeans open and wiggled his hand down, wrapping fingers that were just a little too dry and rough around Spencer’s dick.

"Oh, dude," Spencer moaned, bracing his hands against the back of the couch. He leaned down and kissed Brendon. Brendon started moving his hand slowly, and Spencer’s hips jerked forward.

"I’m gonna break my wrist at this angle," said Brendon, laughing a little. "Can I—Can you—" He wiggled around a little.

Spencer didn’t want to move; he didn’t have his entire brain online, he just wanted skin and touching and movement. "You have to play guitar," he said, which didn’t totally make sense. He shoved and Brendon scooted over, until Brendon was on his back on the couch with one foot braced against the floor, and Spencer was on his side against the back of the couch, holding himself up with one arm.

"See, this I can work with," Brendon said. He kissed Spencer again, moving his hand faster and every time he twisted his hand over the tip of Spencer’s cock, Spencer saw sparks around the edges of his vision.

"Holy shit," said Spencer, trying to catch his breath.

"Right?" Brendon agreed smugly. "Do you want me to finish like this, or do you want my mouth?"

Spencer’s brain shorted out for a minute. Brendon stopped moving his hand. "You don’t have to-" Spencer managed.

Brendon rolled his eyes. "I don’t have to do anything," he agreed. "Jesus, you make this so much more complicated than it has to be." He rolled over and on top of Spencer, who had to scoot over to be on his back. "Shit, your jeans are tight." Brendon sat up on his knees and started pulling at Spencer’s jeans, tugging them down around his thighs.

Spencer pushed himself up on his elbows. "Hang on," he said, "I still have my shirt on. You still have your jeans on."

"If you’re still thinking about that then I’m doing this all wrong," said Brendon mournfully. He had Spencer’s jeans down almost to his knees, and yeah, maybe skinny jeans were a bad idea. Brendon pulled Spencer’s shorts down, too, and grinned when Spencer’s dick sprang free. "Ready?"

"For—" Spencer started, and then Brendon leaned down and started sucking him off, one hand around the base of Spencer’s cock, and Spencer thumped back down on the couch with a moan.

Brendon was straddling his legs, so Spencer didn’t have to worry too much about not bucking up into his mouth. He clutched the couch with one hand and braced the other one against the arm of the couch behind his head, and bit his lip, so he wouldn’t say anything too horrifically embarrassing. Brendon was enthusiastic and he kept making these _noises_ and doing this thing with his tongue over the underside of Spencer’s cock.

"Shit, Brendon," Spencer gasped, flailing around a little with one hand to try and warn Brendon that he was getting close. Brendon sucked harder and loosened his other hand and Spencer’s vision whited out. His heart was pounding in his ears, and everything tingled everywhere.

When he blinked himself back awake Brendon was sitting back on his heels, looking awfully proud of himself. "Better than dinner at Ryan’s, huh?" he said.

"Oh, fuck you," Spencer laughed, grabbing his arm. He pulled Brendon down, kissing him, and ignoring how he tasted a little bit saltier than usual. Brendon made a happy noise against Spencer’s mouth, pushing his hands up under Spencer’s t-shirt. "My turn," Spencer said, getting a little growly. "Why are you still dressed?"

"Because you’re a _gentleman_ ," said Brendon, batting his eyelashes. He twisted around so he could undo the buttons on his jeans, shimmying out of them a lot faster than anyone wearing jeans so tight ought to have been able to. "Fuck, I want you so much." He rubbed his hips against Spencer’s thigh.

"Wait, then," Spencer said, trying for stern. It mostly came out breathless, and Brendon laughed. Spencer sat up and pulled off his own shirt. Brendon was leaning against the couch, stroking his own dick lazily. "Okay, knock it off, it’s my turn," Spencer said.

"You want help?" Brendon asked.

"No," said Spencer. He licked his hand and then elbowed Brendon’s arm out of the way. He wasn’t as expert at this as Brendon was, but he’d had a few hookups and he’d never had any complaints. Plus, Brendon really was pretty easy; as soon as Spencer started moving his hand Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back, mouth open. He looked so fucking pretty, with his cheeks flushed and his dark eyelashes and his ridiculous mouth and his stupid breathy little noises that made Spencer want to do this forever. His hips stuttered forward against Spencer’s, and Spencer’s dick was doing its very best to get interested again.

Spencer leaned forward and kissed Brendon, keeping his hand slow, while Brendon’s hands opened and closed around Spencer’s arms in the same rhythm. "Spencer," Brendon whined. "Come on." He bit Spencer’s bottom lip, pushing his hips forward again.

"It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to finish too quickly," Spencer chided.

Brendon huffed. Spencer kissed him again. He liked how pliable Brendon was like this; normal Brendon had hidden layers and weird depths and confusing double-meanings, but this Brendon just tugged on Spencer’s hair and made a gorgeous little pleading noise against Spencer’s mouth. Spencer sped his hand up and was rewarded with Brendon breathing faster, harder, clutching Spencer’s arms so tightly he was going to leave bruises.

Spencer wanted to say something stupid about how much he really liked Brendon, how gorgeous he was, how much Spencer liked this thing that they were doing right now. But some Brendon-instinct he had warned him that Brendon wouldn’t handle it well, and Spencer was enjoying himself too much to get into an argument.

Brendon’s hands flexed and then his fingers splayed out, and he made a little "aaaah," noise as his hips jerked. Spencer kept moving his hand until Brendon started breathing again, and then Spencer looked around for something to wipe his hand off on. Brendon’s jeans were the nearest thing at hand that was washable.

"Motherfucker," said Brendon hazily. "I saw that. You’re doing my laundry." He was smiling, face tucked against Spencer’s shoulder.

"You promised me beer and chips," said Spencer. "What the fuck kind of date involves laundry?"

"Any date that gets you off is a good one," said Brendon. "Get me a beer." He shoved at Spencer’s shoulder.

"It’s your house; you get _me_ a beer," Spencer said.

Brendon’s hair was sticking out in a hundred directions. He sat up and yawned. "You really want a beer?"

Spencer did. He wanted to sit around on the couch and have a drink and just hang out with Brendon, and then maybe have some more sex later, if they were both still awake. "Can we just… Hang out?" said Spencer. "I mean, we can do this again. That’s cool." He kissed Brendon, to make sure there was no miscommunication about that.

"You want to just chill?" asked Brendon, looking a little confused. "Okay. I’ll go get us snacks, I guess." He shrugged and climbed over Spencer, heading into the kitchen.

By the time he got back Spencer had struggled back into his underwear and jeans. He felt weird sitting around naked. Of course, that had never really been an issue for Brendon, who handed him a beer and then sat down next to him.

Spencer flipped through a couple of channels on Brendon’s giant flat-screen TV. "Anything good on?" he asked.

"This late? Nah," said Brendon.

"Awesome," said Spencer.

\--

"I don’t wanna," said Brendon, digging his heels in a little.

Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand a little more, and when that didn’t get him walking decided to just yank. Brendon windmilled with one arm and stumbled forward.

"Seriously, this is going to be bad," Brendon whined.

"Not if both of you behave like grownups," Spencer said.

"Right, but what are the odds of that?" Brendon asked. "You’ve known us for years, what are the chances—"

Keltie opened the door. "Oh my god, you guys!" she said happily, holding her arms out for a hug. Hobo ran out onto the sidewalk and around Brendon in tiny, dizzy circles, barking her head off.

"Hey, honey," said Brendon, kneeling to pet Hobo, while Spencer hugged Keltie.

"Is this a good idea?" Keltie whispered.

Spencer shrugged. "I wasn’t gonna wait for our Behind the Music," he whispered back.

"Come here and hug me, super star," Keltie ordered.

Brendon laughed, not his full actually-delighted laugh, but the one he used for company. He straightened up – Hobo started barking again – and hugged Keltie. He was clinging a little, Spencer noticed.

"So I didn’t cook this time," said Ryan from the doorway.

"Because we thought that would be kind of a damper on the evening," Keltie agreed, stepping back and straightening her shirt.

Spencer reached out for Brendon’s hand again. It was sweaty and a little cold. "I was lured here under the pretense of food," Brendon said easily. "Would that even have qualified?"

"Hobo likes it," Ryan shrugged.

"Hobo chews on Jon’s flip flops," Spencer pointed out. "And those smell like ass."

"Stop making fun of my dog," Ryan ordered, picking Hobo up. She licked his face enthusiastically. "You guys gonna come in, or what?"

Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand. "Yeah," he said. "What do you think we’re here for?"

\--

"I can’t believe I’m getting married in three months," said Keltie. "I haven’t even picked out a dress yet." She dropped her empty dessert plate on the coffee table and stretched.

"You guys settled on the beach wedding for sure?" said Spencer. "Do you need help? Can I help pick out invitations or something?"

"Oh, god, Ryan’s doing all that," said Keltie, waving her hand around. "And my friend Beth is a wedding planner, she’s gonna book everything. I can’t believe I’m getting _married_." Keltie leaned over and said quietly, "Do you think they’ve killed each other yet?"

Spencer craned his neck. If he got just the right angle he could see around the corner from the couch into the edge of the kitchen. Brendon was sitting on the counter – Spencer could see his sneaker kicking – and Ryan was waving his arms a little crazily. "So far no blood," he said. They were allegedly doing the dinner dishes together, at Keltie’s insistence, but Spencer was the tiniest bit worried since there was no water running.

Keltie turned the volume on the TV down a little. "He really loves him, you know?" she said.

"They’re both idiots," said Spencer.

"He wakes me up in the middle of the night and says ‘G major!’ in this really excited voice," said Keltie. "And I say, ‘Okay, honey,’ and he looks all disappointed that I don’t offer to play the kazoo or something."

Spencer snickered. "Brendon tries to pick fights with me over what I’m wearing," he said. "Like I give a fuck what I’m wearing."

Keltie wrapped her arm around Spencer’s and put her head on his shoulder. "Sometimes I just want to shake them both. Or lock them in a basement somewhere. After I’ve shaken them."

"You’re the one who’s marrying Ryan," Spencer laughed.

Keltie punched him lightly. "You’ve been friends with him since you were babies; like you can talk." She paused. "And you and Brendon…" she said, a little hesitantly.

"We’re not getting married any time soon," said Spencer.

"Well, you just started dating," Keltie said.

Spencer shrugged. "I like him a lot," he said. "But he’s… I wouldn’t even joke about a one-month anniversary, you know, I think he’d flip."

"High strung," said Keltie. "I know all about that."

There was a thump from the kitchen, and then Brendon yelled, "Oh, for _fuck’s sake_ , Ryan."

"Well, I do!" Ryan yelled back.

"Yeah, well, when I want advice on my album I’ll ask!"

"I wasn’t giving advice, I was just pointing out—"

"Who _asked_ you?"

"I was just trying to help!"

Spencer was squeezing Keltie’s hand a little bit, and both of them were kind of holding their breath. He looked at her and she rolled her eyes and they both stifled a laugh.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Brendon said finally, a lot quieter.

"You went off and did this thing," said Ryan. "And you didn’t even let us… And I just wanted to… I don’t know. Be part of it."

There was a longer silence from the kitchen. "I bet they’re hugging," whispered Keltie. "Try and look casual."

"Why should _we_ look casual?" Spencer asked, as she flipped the volume back up.

Ryan and Brendon came into the living room. They weren’t hugging, but they also weren’t standing as far apart as humanly possible, which was an improvement. Brendon shoved his hands in his pockets. "Thanks for dinner," he said, because everyone was just staring at each other, and he hated that.

"Thanks for coming," said Keltie. "You guys are in town for a while, right? We’re gonna see more of you?"

Brendon shrugged, and Ryan poked him in the shoulder. "Yeah, it’s kind of hard to keep Spencer away," Brendon said.

"Asshole," said Ryan.

Brendon grinned at him. "Look who’s talking," he said.

There was a lot of hugging good bye, and Ryan and Brendon even managed a one-armed almost-hug. Spencer wasn’t proud, exactly, but he did feel relieved. Ryan and Brendon were both kind of idiots, and Spencer didn’t need to live through another "I’m not speaking to him" cold war, or worse, a full-on screaming match with shit being thrown at each other. Brendon always ended up in tears and Ryan always ended up locking himself in a room, and Spencer hated trying to talk them both down.

"That wasn’t so bad, right?" said Spencer in the car. "I can give you a ride back to your place, if you want."

Brendon leaned over from the passenger seat and kissed him. He didn’t have his seatbelt on yet, but the angle was still kind of weird. Brendon tilted his head and wrapped one arm around Spencer’s neck, and his other hand found Spencer’s free hand, sitting on the bench seat between them. Brendon curled his fingers through Spencer’s.

"Was it that bad?" asked Spencer.

Brendon’s hand tightened over his. "I hate disappointing him," he said.

"You didn’t. Or, shit, you just surprised him," said Spencer. "He’s Ryan, he hates surprises, he gets mean."

"He’s always mean," Brendon complained.

"Well, you always surprise him," Spencer said.

Brendon kissed him again. It wasn’t as frantic or energetic as Spencer had come to expect from Brendon, just a long, slow kiss, like Brendon was testing something. He was still holding Spencer’s hand.

"Hey," said Spencer. "You wanna go to my place? We can make popcorn with m&ms, and you still haven’t watched the new Batman movie."

"Yeah," said Brendon. "Okay."

"So then, you have to get back in your seat," Spencer pointed out.

"Whatever, you drive like my grandma," Brendon said, but he moved back over to the passenger side and pulled on his seatbelt. He managed it without letting go of Spencer’s hand, though.

\--

"Where’s your phone charger?" Brendon asked.

Spencer stared at him for a minute. "Those are my pajamas," he said.

"My phone is dying, I need to plug it in," said Brendon, and yawned.

"You know how I know?" Spencer asked. "Because they’re like, seventeen sizes too big for you."

Brendon glared at him a little. "I can’t tell if you’re calling yourself fat or me shrimpy, and either way you can shut up," he said.

Spencer reached for Brendon’s shirt and tugged him over to the couch. Brendon made a pouty face, as if he didn’t really want to get pulled down, but he came pretty willingly. "Your house is fifteen minutes away, if you need clothes," said Spencer. There was something light and fluttery in his chest, and he wasn’t sure why. "You know that, right? You could just go home and get pajamas?"

"You assume I own pajamas," Brendon pointed out. "And I don’t. Well. Except the ones with the cats on them that my mom got me for Christmas last year. But those are only for when I go home."

"You have pajamas with cats on them? Do they have feet?"

Brendon scowled a little. "No," he said. "But if she could find them in my size I would." He yawned again and leaned into Spencer’s shoulder. "You don’t really mind me borrowing your clothes, right?"

"I’ve known you for way too long to believe you’re ‘borrowing’ anything," Spencer said. He tugged on Brendon’s hair a little. "I’m never getting them back."

"But you don’t actually mind?"

"Nah," said Spencer. "Keep the pajamas."

Brendon kept yawning. "It’s not like they fit," he said. His voice was getting a little blurry. "I wouldn’t keep them. Except they smell like you."

Spencer’s breath caught in his chest. It took him three tries to get enough voice to say, "God, you’re a weirdo. Smelling other people’s clothing."

"Mmm," Brendon agreed. "I’m gonna fall asleep on you."

Spencer shrugged. "Just don’t drool," he said.

Brendon made a snuffly noise against his shoulder and didn’t say anything else.

\--

Brendon left his stuff fucking everywhere in Spencer’s apartment. Spencer was getting really tired of tripping over CD cases and plugs for amps and sneakers left lying around. Spencer secretly liked it, because it meant Brendon was coming back at some point. Of course, he always had, they were friends, but this was different. It was nice. Especially because after three weeks of awesomeness, Brendon had been really weird for a few days, not answering his phone or replying to Spencer’s texts.

Ryan said, "Didn’t you expect him to get bored eventually?" and it _stung_.

"No," said Spencer, stupidly. "Shut up. He’s not bored, he’s just… I don’t know what he’s doing."

"Brendon’s got a really short attention span," said Ryan.

"Yeah, but not for me," Spencer insisted, and hung up on Ryan.

He waited six days and then texted Brendon _ud better b dead_. Spencer tried to distract himself with Jon’s latest video of Paz, taking adorable, unsteady steps around the apartment.

 _Not dead, busy_ , Brendon texted back.

Spencer couldn’t decide if it was lamer to demand to know what Brendon was doing or to ignore him. It had been a really, really good three weeks since they’d gotten back. At least, Spencer had thought so.

 _Busy doing what?_ Spencer texted, because he didn’t want to nag, but he couldn’t stop himself from being upset. _Next sneaker i trip over im throwing away._

 _Ud better not!!!!!!!_ Brendon replied immediately. _u shoe snob. Tty 2moro, promise._

 _Ok_ , Spencer texted back. He wanted to add something cute and funny, but there was a block of ice in his stomach. He turned his phone off and a basketball game on cable up super loud and fell asleep on the couch.

\--

Brendon burst in while Spencer was heating up lunch. His mom had left him a bunch of frozen lasagnas and Spencer had spent enough time on the road to appreciate home-cooked food, even if it was reheated.

"I was talking to Pete, don’t be mad, I have plans," said Brendon, all in one breath. He kissed Spencer hello, crowding him back against the counter until Spencer was having trouble breathing, because he had the fridge against his back and Brendon pressed against his front.

"Why would I be mad?" Spencer asked, trying to make Brendon back off a step so they could talk, but Brendon was clingy and demanding, and already had one hand down Spencer’s jeans.

"Less talking, I missed you," said Brendon.

"Well then you could have been around," said Spencer, feeling a little grumpy. The microwave beeped, and he shoved Brendon off. "You’re interrupting my lunch."

Brendon put his hands on his hips. "You’d rather have me than lunch, right?" he said.

Spencer bit back _Lunch never disappears for days on end_ , because it was petty. "What’ve you been planning with Pete?" he asked. "Am I gonna have to arrange a détente between you and Ryan again?"

"I’ll make it worth your while," said Brendon, which was as good as an admission of guilt. He pressed himself up against Spencer’s back, and god it was hard to concentrate on not burning his fingers when Spencer could feel Brendon every time he moved. "Spencer," Brendon said, in his mildly obnoxious wheedling voice. He wrapped his arms around Spencer’s waist. "Don’t be mad at me."

"I’m not mad at you," said Spencer. He stopped to check and see if it was true, and it mostly was; he was annoyed that Brendon didn’t think he was important enough to keep in touch, but he was glad Brendon was back.

"Good," said Brendon. He leaned up on his tip toes and bit Spencer’s ear.

Spencer took a deep breath, because he was not going to get distracted. Seriously. "So what’s your big plan with Pete?" he asked.

"You’re supposed to let me do this first," said Brendon. He was undoing the button fly on Spencer’s jeans with one hand.

"Uh uh, I want to hear your plans," said Spencer. "When you get like this it’s always bad news." It killed him a little bit, but he grabbed Brendon’s wrist and pushed it firmly away. He turned around without letting go. "C’mon, spill."

Brendon tried pouting, which Spencer was definitely immune to. He tugged but Spencer had a good hold of his arm, and he had a feeling if he let go things would get distracting again. "Aww," said Brendon, batting his eyes a little bit. "You missed me while I was gone?"

"Of course I did," said Spencer, starting to get seriously annoyed. "What the fuck, Brendon. Stop changing the subject, _you_ brought it up."

Brendon sighed. "Fine. Can I have my hand back?"

"No," said Spencer. He walked over to the living room couch, dragging Brendon with him. "Sit. Talk."

Brendon was tapping his free fingers against his knee like he was playing a piano solo. "Okay, the thing is, I was talking to Pete," he said, a little too fast. "And I don’t know if you’re gonna be mad, I bet Ryan will be." He shrugged a little bit about the apparent futility of understand Ryan Ross. "Pete thinks it’s a good idea, though, and so do I, and I’d be back before the wedding."

Spencer was usually willing to let Brendon wind down and start making sense, but he was about three times more keyed up than Spencer had seen him in months. Maybe after lunch they could smoke up, and Brendon could relax a little. "So?" said Spencer.

"So I’m going on another tour," said Brendon. Spencer’s hand closed a little tighter around his wrist. "Not opening this time. Well, opening, but not first opener, third, right before Jolene, you know, Patrick’s Jolene? Pete thinks it’d be good."

Brendon wanted to leave again. Spencer’s stomach sank. No wonder he’d been gone, he was avoiding Spencer, he’d been trying to find a nice way to tell him that he was leaving. "Oh," said Spencer.

Brendon bit his lip worriedly. "I’m not quitting the band," he said. "We’re not doing anything until at least after Ryan gets married, and I can’t just sit around, I’ll go crazy, even with you. And I know I’m not as much fun as Ryan, and I’m not as funny as Ryan, and I’m not Ryan fucking Ross, but Spencer—" Brendon surged forward, climbing onto Spencer’s lap, holding Spencer’s shirt with both hands. "Please," said Brendon, and kissed him.

Spencer had no idea what Brendon was asking. "If you wanna tour, tour," he said unhappily. "Ryan’ll deal."

"No," said Brendon, "I mean, please come with me." He rocked his hips forward and Spencer bit back a gasp. Brendon used it as an excuse to kiss him again, hot and messy, tongue in Spencer’s mouth and his free hand fumbling with Spencer’s fly. Spencer couldn’t breathe, Brendon was pressed so closely against him. "I know I don’t have a million years of best friend-ness," Brendon said, "But I’ll make it worth your while, I swear I will."

Spencer laughed and pushed Brendon back a little again. "Are you trying to bribe me?" he said.

Brendon looked a little confused. "If it’ll help," he said.

Spencer sat up straighter. "You’re serious."

"It’s lonely, and I’ll miss you. If I have Zack I won’t need you around, but I still _want_ you around, and I want you to _want_ to be around," Brendon started. "I know bunk sex sucks but there are hotel nights, and I will totally do shit you’ve only seen in porn—"

"Oh my god," said Spencer. "You’re _serious_."

"What?" said Brendon.

Spencer stood up so fast he almost dropped Brendon on the floor. "You’re _whoring yourself out_ so you won’t have to be lonely on the road," he said, and he couldn’t help the accusatory note in his voice.

"Fuck you," said Brendon. "I was just trying to convince you—"

"And you couldn’t just ask me?"

Brendon crossed his arms. "I did, you looked all horrified."

"I thought you were going without me!" Spencer almost-yelled.

"It’s not my fault you don’t understand me!" Brendon yelled right back.

"You’re supposed to make plans like this with me because I’m your boyfriend and you want me around," Spencer snapped.

Brendon stared at him, open-mouthed. Then he took a deep breath and said coldly, "I don’t remember deciding you were my boyfriend. You did that without me, huh?"

It hurt, so Spencer didn’t think before he said, "Well, maybe if you were around, or answered your phone—"

"I’m not your _son_ or your _pet_ ," said Brendon. "I don’t need checking up on."

"Then I guess you’re not my _anything_ ," said Spencer meanly. "Go find someone who’s willing to overlook what a screw up you are because you’re a good fuck. That’s what you wanted me to do, right?"

"Fuck you," said Brendon, voice shaking, and stormed out.

\--

There had been a point during high school when Ryan would show up at Spencer’s house with his backpack and a frown, throw himself on Spencer’s family couch, and refuse to say anything about why he was there for days at a time. Of course, Spencer usually knew, because Ryan wasn’t actually that hard to figure out, but his parents had learned to be patient and let Ryan tell them what was going on at his own pace.

That was why Spencer didn’t feel too ridiculous showing up at Ryan’s house and stomping over to the couch, ignoring all of Keltie’s well-meaning questions. "Did something happen?" she asked, holding Hobo, who was licking her worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"No," said Spencer. He flipped on the TV and ignored her and waited for his stomach to stop feeling like it was filled with lava all the time.

Ryan got home a couple of hours later and Spencer could hear them talking about him in the kitchen, but he didn’t try to listen. If Ryan pushed, Spencer was going to punch him.

Ryan walked out and sat down on the couch. Spencer deliberately turned the volume on the remote up a few bars. Someone on screen was explaining how to make a soufflé.

Spencer waited, but Ryan didn’t say anything. Spencer’s shoulders ached from being angry all night.

Eventually Ryan said, "I’m thinking white and green centerpieces on the tables. Keltie wants a nature theme."

"How are you going to have centerpieces at the beach?" Spencer asked automatically.

Ryan frowned. "You think I could do, like, sandcastles?"

"Sandcastle centerpieces?" said Spencer doubtfully. "How would that work?"

"I don’t know, every table could have a little castle on it. And instead of name cards there could be little flags."

"You are planning the very lamest wedding ever," said Spencer.

Ryan smiled happily. "Yeah," he said. "Maybe starfish. Since we’re at the beach."

"Animal cruelty."

"Hmmm." Ryan hesitated. "Is there anything non-wedding related you want to tell me?"

Spencer crossed his arms. "No," he said flatly.

"Okay. Then you wanna help me choose flower arrangements? I have a whole book."

"Give it here," Spencer sighed.

Ryan lit up. "Okay, see these on page twelve?" he said. "I was thinking like that, but way less twee."

"You love twee," said Spencer.

"Your mom loves twee," said Ryan, and Spencer finally managed to relax a little.

\--

Brendon didn’t call and apologize. Spencer dealt with it.

"You are really grumpy," said Keltie, poking him in the nose.

Sometimes she was too much for Spencer. "Ehhh," he said, waving her off.

"I’m going to a dress fitting. You wanna come?"

"No," said Spencer.

"The store has this cool thing where I can try it on and Cassie can see me in Chicago. You’re sure you don’t wanna come?" Spencer stared at her. Keltie shrugged. "If you actually fuse to my couch," she said, "You have to buy me a new one. Bye." She kissed his cheek and left.

Spencer had spent way more time on their couch over the fall, he didn’t know what she was talking about. It had only been three days.

Ryan was out walking Hobo, and when he got back he sighed a little. Hobo jumped up on the couch and Spencer petted her absently with one hand.

"Let me just get this out of the way," said Ryan. "I told you so. Okay, I feel better."

"You did not," said Spencer. "This is not… You have no idea what happened."

Ryan came over and moved Hobo off the couch so he could sit down. She jumped back up on his lap. "You ever going to tell me?" he asked.

"We had a fight," said Spencer. "That’s all."

Ryan hummed a little to himself, which was incredibly annoying. "Three days is kind of a serious fight. Do I need to go find him and punch him in the nose? I will, you know. You were my friend first. But then I’ll probably have to punch you, too, because he’s my friend. So brace yourself."

"You couldn’t punch a grandma," said Spencer.

"I’m morally opposed to grandma punching," said Ryan. "That’s different. I have no problem punching idiots."

Spencer slid down against the back of the couch a little. "He’s planning a new tour," he said, because he knew that would make Ryan mad.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Pete called me. How come you two never tell me anything? I’m always having to hear from people."

"Aren’t you mad?"

"A little. But that’s not what you’re fighting about," said Ryan.

"He was stupid about it," said Spencer. Ryan waited. "He was like… I don’t know, he didn’t want me to come with him. Or he did, I guess, but he was a fucktard about it, he couldn’t like… He didn’t want…" Spencer made a frustrated noise and punched his fist against the couch.

Ryan frowned. "You didn’t want to go with him?"

"He acted like…" Spencer didn’t know how to explain this to Ryan. "He acted like the only reason I’d possibly want to go with him was to have sex. Ryan, he offered up sex like it was… Like he didn’t know we’ve been dating for a couple of months already, like it didn’t _matter_."

"Don’t freak out," said Ryan. "But yeah, that sounds like Brendon."

"Well, it shouldn’t!" Spencer yelled. "I’m not some guy he met and fucked on tour."

There was a long silence in the living room. Ryan didn’t say anything, just looked at Spencer.

"Maybe it means more to you than it does to him," said Ryan quietly.

Spencer flinched. "I don’t think so," he said. "I… I really don’t, Ry."

"Then why did he say that?" asked Ryan.

"I don’t know," said Spencer, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Because he’s a moron. Because he’s Brendon."

"So if he’d just said he was lonely and he wanted you to go, you’d have gone?" Ryan asked.

"Yes, of course," said Spencer. "Obviously."

Ryan hummed again and fiddled with the buttons on his cuff. "Maybe Brendon didn’t think so."

"He could have asked. I told him I wasn’t kidding around, I told him I was serious."

"But I think serious might mean something different to Brendon," said Ryan. "Like… I think for him, this _is_ serious. He’s still around two months later. He asked you to go with him, however fucked up his invitation was."

Spencer shook his head. "But it _was_ totally fucked up," he said. "He should know me better than this."

"Maybe you should go tell him that," said Ryan quietly.

Spencer tipped his head back against the couch and tried to ignore him.

"I mean," Ryan continued, "I get that sulking is fun and all. Don’t let me stop you."

"Shut up," said Spencer.

"It’s just, he’s leaving soon, right? And you should talk to him before that."

Spencer turned his head and glared. "It’s not supposed to be this hard," he said.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Do you hear me _not_ saying ‘I told you so’ again? Because it’s getting kind of difficult to resist."

"I hate you," said Spencer.

Ryan laughed and went to feed Hobo.

\--

Spencer found himself on Brendon’s doorstep for the second time in a month, and it wasn’t any more fun with practice. He knocked and rubbed his hands against his jeans, because they were inexplicably sweaty.

Brendon didn’t answer. Spencer wasn’t shocked. He knocked again and yelled, "I know you’re home. Shane said so!" Shane was a convenient guy to have around, because Brendon would do just about anything to avoid a confrontation.

It still took a few minutes. The door opened and Brendon crossed his arms, jaw set in a grumpy line. "I’m packing," he said. "I don’t want to talk to you."

He looked tired and pale and his cheekbones were sharper than Spencer remembered. "Too bad," said Spencer. "We need to talk."

"I’m pretty sure you can’t beat calling me a whore," said Brendon. "Why bother trying?"

Spencer said, "You want to do this here?"

One of the keys to fighting with Brendon was knowing which manners from his childhood he hadn’t been able to shake. Inviting people in was one of his weaknesses. He didn’t want to, it was all over his face, but he shoved the door open. "Fine," he said. "You can watch me pack."

Spencer followed Brendon up the stairs. "When does the tour start?" he asked.

"I’m leaving Friday." Brendon’s apartment looked like a tornado had been through; there was clothing everywhere. He wasn’t normally the world’s neatest guy, but his living room was currently knee-deep in t-shirts and towels and hoodies.

"That’s soon," said Spencer. His throat hurt.

Brendon glared. "Not soon enough."

"You and Jolene will have fun," said Spencer awkwardly.

"Yeah, I’m gonna fuck her, and then I thought maybe I’d fuck some techs, and then, for good measure, I’ll try and fuck Zack," Brendon snapped. "What do you want, Spencer?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend," said Spencer.

Brendon froze.

"When I said serious… I meant boyfriends serious," said Spencer awkwardly. "I like you. I like dating you. I don’t know if you missed that, maybe. But I want to go with you, and I want you to think that I’ll come. Just because you ask. Just because I… I want to."

Spencer felt horrible, like he’d ripped out his guts and left them all over Brendon’s floor on top of all the mess. And Brendon was just standing there, staring at him.

"I shouldn’t have called you that," Spencer said. "I was mad. I don’t want to be just some guy you’re sleeping with."

Brendon sat down on the couch. He put one hand on his temple like he had a headache. "It was fine the way it was," he said. "Why does it have to be… Why do you need a name for it?"

"Because you acted like we weren’t," said Spencer.

Brendon asked warily, "What does that mean, boyfriends? I was trying, Spencer. I don’t know what else you want from me."

"I want that," said Spencer. "I just want… I don’t want you to think I’m going to ditch you for Ryan. I want you to call me if you’re going to be away with Pete. I want you to trust that I want to be around."

"But…" said Brendon, and stopped.

Spencer shrugged awkwardly. "If you don’t… I mean. I guess it’s a lot. I really like you, though."

That was it, that was literally everything he could think of to say.

Brendon sighed and leaned forward, hiding his face. He took a couple of deep breaths. Spencer could see his shoulders rising and falling.

"This really freaks me out," said Brendon quietly.

"It’s just me," said Spencer.

Brendon laughed and looked up again. "You _say_ that."

"You’ve known me for like, ten years. How scary can I possibly be?" asked Spencer.

"Terrifying," Brendon assured him. He stood up again. "Okay, listen," he said. "I’m going on tour on Friday. Would you like to come along and be my boyfriend?"

"Yeah," said Spencer, smiling.

"And I absolutely promise not to have sex with you," Brendon went on, grinning a little.

"Whoa, wait," said Spencer. "I never said—"

"Because I’m new to the whole boyfriends thing, but I guess it involves a lot of chastity," Brendon went on.

Spencer picked up a t-shirt off the floor and threw it at Brendon. "You’re an ass," he said.

"One of many parts of me you will not be enjoying this tour," said Brendon fake-sadly.

Spencer tackled him. It seemed like the fastest way to win that particular argument.

\--

Ryan called and said, "You have to have dinner with us before you go. I promise not to cook."

Spencer replied, "Yeah, I’ll see, whatever." Then he used his most devastating pouty look on Brendon.

Brendon rolled his eyes and sighed really hard. "You’ve been practicing that. You fucking cheater."

"Not my fault you peaked too soon," said Spencer smugly. "You gave away all your best tricks the week I met you."

"You wish," said Brendon. He did what he probably thought was a sexy little dance, and Spencer started laughing.

"That’s not – Oh my god, put those away," he said pleadingly, as Brendon wiggled his hips.

"Putty in my hands," said Brendon, shimmying.

Spencer said, "Whatever you say. Are you done packing? We’re going to Ryan’s for dinner."

"Not yet," said Brendon. "You’re lucky I’m so accommodating."

"Yeah," said Spencer, grinning. "I’m real lucky."

\--

Ryan had wedding scrapbooks. Spencer had seen them all, but Brendon hadn’t. "Aren’t you supposed to make these afterwards, with photos and old napkins and stuff?" asked Brendon doubtfully.

"This is a planning scrapbook," said Ryan patiently. "See this? This is the beach at sunset. That’s where we’re getting married."

"Barefoot," said Keltie.

"We were going to ride horses," said Ryan.

"No," said Keltie to Spencer. "We were never going to ride horses."

"But then we decided that’d be unnecessarily complicated," Ryan explained happily. "There will be a little tent, and we’ll get married at right at the beach, and then we go back to this resort I rented. See the pictures? That’s where we’ll dance."

Brendon nodded and tapped a drum rhythm on the kitchen table. "Okay, okay," he said. "That sounds really nice. Are there going to be costumes, or can we show up in bathing suits?"

"Keltie has a dress," said Ryan, frowning for a second. "I haven’t seen it though."

"You will," Keltie promised, and kissed him.

Brendon looked at Spencer and rolled his eyes. Spencer put his hand on top of Brendon’s before the drumming could get out of control and knock over a dish or something. Brendon grinned at him.

"You guys are going to wear suits," said Ryan. "Matching suits. Sea foam suits."

Brendon made a gagging noise. Spencer kicked him and tried not to laugh. "Sea foam," said Spencer doubtfully. "Are they made of polyester? Will they have ruffly cravats, too?"

Ryan’s eyes lit up. "Oh my god," he said. "We could have a beach disco theme."

"We really, really couldn’t," said Keltie.

Brendon laughed so hard Spencer was genuinely worried he might choke. When he calmed down he managed, "Ryan Ross, I am really glad I know you."

Ryan smiled. "Me, too. That’s why I’ve decided to forgive you," he said. He sounded amazingly earnest.

Brendon went kind of still. "Huh," he said. "Yeah?"

"I should have expected it," said Ryan. "And I should have been less of a dick about it."

"Yeah," said Brendon. "You should have."

Spencer poked him in the leg.

"What?" Brendon said, a little flatly. "I don’t think I actually did anything I need to get _forgiven_ for."

"He didn’t mean it like that," said Spencer.

"You don’t think what you did was kind of shady?" Ryan asked, frowning.

Keltie stood up. "Not at dinner," she said. "Not when you guys are leaving in the morning. Knock it off."

Ryan and Brendon were glaring at each other. Spencer wanted to bang his head against the wall.

"I was apologizing," Ryan said, waving his hands around.

Brendon made a frustrated noise and looked at Spencer. "He was," said Spencer. "Seriously."

Brendon tapped his fingers furiously against the table for a second. Then he took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to smile. "Okay," he said. "Fine. I forgive you, too, Ryan. For being a total douche."

Ryan hesitated. "So we were both douches and we’re both forgiven," he said, like he was trying it out.

Brendon burst out laughing again. "Oh my god, we are totally hopeless," he said.

Ryan leaned back and smiled, too, his real smile. "I think we are," he agreed.

Spencer felt like a thousand pound weight was off his shoulders. "Definitely," he agreed. Under the table, Brendon hooked his ankle around Spencer’s.

\--

Brendon yelled, "Zack, my man! How much did you miss me?"

Zack tipped his hand from side to side. "Eh," he said. "More than a toothache, less than a really good nap." Brendon launched himself at Zack anyway. It was less a hug and more a full-on scaling attempt, and Zack laughed and managed not to drop Brendon on his head, so it was fine.

Spencer was holding both of their suitcases a little awkwardly. He’d never been on a whole tour that wasn’t _his_ tour, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Keltie and Cassie just came out for little visits. What had Shane done when he’d traveled with them? Had he felt awkward about it?

Shane had probably thought going on tour was just cool. Spencer, though, felt a little useless and out of place. "What?" said Brendon, letting go of Zack’s neck. He put one hand on his hip. "Spencer, what?"

Spencer hated that Brendon could be really perceptive sometimes. "Nothing," said Spencer. "I was just trying to figure out where to put our stuff. Your stuff."

"What’s up," said Zack. "How’s it goin’, merch guy?"

"Say what?" Spencer asked.

Brendon was doing his very best to look innocent, and he always overshot by about a thousand percent. "I told Zack you’d sell merch. I thought maybe you’d be bored," said Brendon. "You need things to do. My mom says idle hands are the devil’s playground." He beamed.

"You have merch?" Spencer asked.

"Well, I have CDs," said Brendon. "And three wicked ugly t-shirts." He hesitated. "If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, seriously, I don’t mind, I just thought you might be kind of…" He waved his hand. "At loose ends."

Spencer’s throat hurt. "Yeah, I--" he started, and then looked at Zack, and decided this was not the time for heartfelt declarations of affection. He cleared his throat instead. "Dude, you’re supposed to be my sugar daddy. You go out and work, I lie around and look pretty. Wasn’t that the deal?"

Brendon started giggling. "That’s cool with me," he said. "Let me know when you’re feeling pretty, dude, I’ll pooooooour some suuuuugar on youuu." He was singing before he got to the end of the sentence, and Spencer rolled his eyes, because now he was going to have to hear that song for days.

"If I don’t get a hug pretty soon, I’m gonna get bitchy," said Zack.

"God forbid," said Spencer, dropping their suitcases. Zack was really big, and it was comforting having him around, looking exactly like he always did. It was also a little bit scary, because this time Brendon wasn’t messing around, he was actually, honestly going out on tour for his album, like a real solo artist.

Spencer swallowed hard and hugged Zack and tried not to think about that too much.

\--

The afternoon alarm buzzer went off with a super obnoxious noise. "I’m not going," Brendon moaned. "I’m staying here."

Spencer stretched. He tried to make it look as luxurious and lazy as possible. "Your screaming public awaits," he said. "Me, on the other hand? I’m gonna take a nap."

Brendon sat up. His hair was half stuck to his head. "You’re not coming to the show?" he asked, sticking out his lower lip.

"I saw your show last night. And the night before. And the night before," Spencer pointed out. "Three nights, three shows. Dude, we have a hotel bed. I wanna nap." He closed his eyes and rolled over, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder.

"You – Spencer!" Brendon smacked him on the leg in outrage.

Spencer was working really hard not to laugh. "Can’t talk," he yawned. "Napping. Shhh."

It still took Brendon a second, because he was pretty easy when he first woke up. "Oh, you _jackass_ ," said Brendon. "You’re getting up." He yanked on the blanket, and Spencer yanked back. Brendon snuck a hand under the blanket and poked Spencer in the waist, right where he knew Spencer was ticklish.

Spencer swore and rolled over again. "Dirty cheater," he said, grabbing for Brendon’s hand.

Brendon beamed at him. "Yup," he said proudly. "So you’d better – Ack, Spencer!" And then he didn’t say anything, because Brendon was about a thousand times more ticklish than Spencer was, and Spencer knew exactly where. Brendon kicked kind of uselessly, because Spencer had already rolled on top of him, pinning him with a knee on his arm. He had to use one hand to keep Brendon from rolling up in a ball while he laughed, breathless and helpless and batting at Spencer’s leg.

"You started it," said Spencer, digging his fingers in to Brendon’s ticklish elbow. Brendon shrieked and flailed and almost hit Spencer in the face. Spencer caught his wrist and pressed it down against the bed. "Watch your hands," he said.

Brendon took a couple of long, hiccupping breaths. "Not my fault," he said. His chest was heaving between Spencer’s thighs. "You… You deserve it."

"Yeah?" said Spencer. He slid backwards a little bit, so he had more room to move. "Is that so?" He leaned forward and licked Brendon along the edge of his jaw, right where he was getting a little stubbly from road laziness.

"You do," said Brendon, and then it dissolved into a happy _nnnnngh_ noise. He tilted his head back for Spencer, arching up against him as much as he could.

"You’ll do anything to get my hands all over you," said Spencer. His hands were resting Brendon’s arms, not really holding him still anymore. He bit Brendon’s neck a little, where Brendon was twisting away to give him room. Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut with a little sigh. Spencer wanted there to be a mark on Brendon, something above his collar that all those screaming fan girls would see in their photographs when they got home tonight. He kissed Brendon and then started sucking on his neck.

"Are you trying to give me a hickey?" asked Brendon, a little disbelievingly.

"Um," said Spencer. "Maybe?" He sat up. "Is that—"

Brendon twisted, suddenly, and without quite knowing how Spencer was suddenly on the floor with Brendon on top of him. "You _lose_ ," Brendon crowed, tickling him with sudden, renewed enthusiasm. He had these little fucking fingers that were digging into the back of Spencer’s knees and the soft spot on his hip, and then, just as Spencer lost the ability to breathe, Brendon bounced to his feet.

"Gonna be late," he said, with a wicked grin.

"Don’t you dare," said Spencer, grabbing his ankle. Brendon windmilled hilariously and fell on the carpet next to him.

Brendon was laughing too hard to try and wrestle seriously; Spencer had a longer reach and he weighed more and he wasn’t going to lose. He got Brendon pinned again and said, "Seriously, dude, I’m like, thirty seconds away from snicker-snagging on you, don’t _make_ me do it. I will."

"So sexy," Brendon giggled.

Spencer kissed him just to shut him up.

There was a minute when it was still a competition, Spencer fighting his way into Brendon’s mouth and Brendon wiggling underneath him like he might roll away again, and then all the fight went out of Brendon and his hands closed around Spencer’s arms. The tempo of their kissing changed; it went slower and lazier until it was more like breathing and less like making out.

"I should go," Brendon whispered, wigging one of his hands free so he could wrap it around Spencer’s neck.

"If you were really late, Zack would bang on the door," said Spencer. He rolled on his side, pulling Brendon around with him, tangling their legs together.

"I was late yesterday," Brendon said, rubbing his hips against Spencer’s. "He was mad."

Spencer bit him on the shoulder. It was going to leave a mark, he thought, feeling a little smug. People were going to see that later. "You really wanna go?" he asked, threading his hands through Brendon’s hair and tugging a little.

"No," said Brendon. "Not really."

\--

For a few nights Spencer worked the merch table. Except eventually one of the girls lining up to get a t-shirt with Brendon’s stupid mellow album artwork on it said, "Oh my god, _Spencer Smith?_ " and then there was a giant crowd of girls giggling and pointing and snapping pictures with their phones.

Spencer had been cool without that going on. Ryan texted, _the intrnt sez ur on tur w bden_.

Spencer texted back, _no shit_.

After that Zack told him he couldn’t go out and work merch unless someone from security was there to look after him. "They’re not here for me, they want Brendon," Spencer argued.

Zack had a really good stare. "They want you, too," he said. "Hair cookies."

"That was one time."

" _Hair cookies._ "

Spencer sighed and gave up.

Brendon immediately started worrying that Spencer was bored; he fretted about it the whole afternoon before he went on stage. "I’m fine, I want to be here, I’m having fun," Spencer promised, and kissed him, and shoved him out to play.

Brendon bounced back afterwards, sweaty and keyed up. He hugged Spencer, which was gross, and then shook the sweat out of his hair. "I have a brilliant idea," he announced.

Zack raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No, I do," Brendon insisted. "You want to hear it. You know you do."

"You’re getting me all gross," said Spencer, letting Brendon drag him backstage. "And you smell like a wet dog."

"Shut up," Brendon said. He grabbed a towel off the chair and used it to wipe some of the sweat off his face. His shirt was soaked through all across the back, and he started peeling out of it. "Okay, are you ready?"

"After all this build up it had better be the greatest idea anyone’s ever had," said Spencer.

"You don’t even know," Brendon assured him. He beamed. "You should play drums with me on stage!"

"No," said Spencer.

Brendon stomped his foot. "It would be _so great_ , have you even considered –"

" _No_ ," Spencer repeated. He crossed his arms.

Jason, one of the techs, stuck his head in. "If you two are having a lover’s quarrel, shut the door," he said. "You get kind of loud before the sex."

Brendon’s mouth dropped open a little bit. "We’re not—" he said.

"Then put your shirt on," said Jason, rolling his eyes, and walked off.

Brendon sat down on the couch. Spencer waited for him to say something else about Spencer drumming with him, but he was just staring into space. "What?" said Spencer.

Brendon shrugged. "Nothing, just… Do you think everyone on the tour thinks…" He laughed, but it was a little forced. "Are we that really gross tour couple who everyone else hates?"

"Probably," said Spencer. "You grope me kind of a lot."

"You grope me," Brendon corrected automatically. He wrinkled up his nose. "I didn’t think about… Everyone. Knowing."

Spencer elbowed him until he moved over enough for Spencer to sit down, even though it meant getting all sweaty where their sides were pressed together. "You like being the center of attention," said Spencer.

Brendon shrugged again, and then tapped his fingers impatiently, and then started humming under his breath. Spencer slid his hand into Brendon’s before Brendon could distract himself and jump to his feet. "That’s different, though," said Brendon. "It’s like… People are… I don’t know."

Spencer decided not to take it personally. "It was cool when our whole tour knew you were hooking up with whoever, instead? Please tell me that’s not what you mean."

Brendon looked at him blankly for a second, and then shook his head. "What? No! How could you even _think_ —" He leaned over and kissed Spencer, hard and fast. "No, that’s stupid. I – I like you." He shrugged again. "I just don’t know how to feel about everyone looking at us and thinking we’re all… Um…"

"Boyfriends," said Spencer.

Brendon wiggled his sneaker around on the carpet. "I like you, though," he said.

"Good," said Spencer. "I like you, too."

"Are you mad at me?" Brendon asked quietly.

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Are you gonna dump me so the techs don’t think you’re gay?" he asked.

Brendon snuggled up against him and put his head on Spencer’s shoulder. "Dunno," he said. "Is one of them way cuter than you?"

"No one who’d put up with you," said Spencer.

"Probably not, then," Brendon said.

"Good," said Spencer.

\--

Spencer took a lot of stupid photos of Brendon. He didn’t get very good shots; Brendon moved around too much, and Spencer didn’t know how to make the pictures look empty and cool like Shane did. Mostly he ended up with a lot of close ups of Brendon making ridiculous faces, which the world probably already had enough of.

"Stop it," said Spencer irritably. "Can’t you just… Just stand there, like you would if I were Jon."

"We should call Jon," said Brendon. Spencer snapped a picture, but Brendon was in the middle of talking, with his mouth open and his face scrunched up. He looked like he was sneezing.

"Why do you suck so hard at this?" Spencer asked.

"You mean why do _you_ suck so hard at this?" Brendon said. "I’m really good at getting my picture taken. I’m basically a professional."

Spencer swatted him on the arm. "The only reason we let you in the band was your stupid faces," he said. "Now stop it, come on, I want a nice picture."

"If you want a nice picture we’ll have to have someone else take it," Brendon laughed. He closed one eye and stuck out his tongue.

Spencer could have strangled him. "I give up," he said.

"Aww," said Brendon. "And I was just gonna tell Ryan to hire you for the wedding." He struck a pose, chin up and hands on his hips. "C’mon, make me pretty."

"It’s just a camera, it’s not magic," Spencer grumbled. "Why can’t you hold still?"

"You know what would be fun?" said Brendon. "If we took those rolly chairs from backstage and we skateboarded on them. I bet I could. I bet we could surf them down the stairs."

Spencer snickered. "You’d get like, two feet, and then Zack would _kill_ you."

"Worth it," said Brendon. "I’ll make you a deal. I’ll pose for the picture if you drum with me."

"No," said Spencer.

Brendon crossed his arms sulkily. "Why not?"

"Because," said Spencer, putting the camera down. "It’s not… It’s your tour. I’m not playing."

He couldn’t tell if Brendon was play-pouting or for-real upset. "You’d be a special guest star," said Brendon. "Like if I went out and sang with Jolene."

"Except not, because I’m not playing," said Spencer. "I’m not on the tour as a musician, I’m here to hang out with you." Brendon glared at him. For-real upset, Spencer decided, and felt a little guilty.

"This is about Ryan," Brendon said.

"No, it’s about how I’m not drumming with you."

"Because Ryan would be pissed." Brendon nodded to himself. "You won’t play on stage with me because Ryan would get all upset."

"Of course he would, but it’s not about that," Spencer said. "It just feels weird."

Brendon kicked his sneaker against the wall a couple of times. "Okay, fine, I get it," he said. Spencer started to argue, but Brendon just held up his hand. "Don’t bother, dude, I know. You’re all…" He waved his hands around and then shrugged. "I’m gonna go."

"Go where?" Spencer asked. Brendon wasn’t wrong, exactly, and Spencer wished again that Brendon was as goofy and flaky as he acted most of the time.

"Jesus Christ, does being boyfriends mean you have to keep tabs on me every single second of the day?" Brendon snapped. "I’m going out! I’ll be back! Fuck!"

"I just meant—" Spencer said, but Brendon had already stomped off.

\--

He found Brendon smoking in the parking lot, with Zack keeping an eye on him from a discreet distance. Actually he found Zack, standing around by the vans, and then used that to figure out where Brendon was, but whatever.

"I didn’t mean it like that," said Spencer.

"I don’t wanna talk to you right now," said Brendon.

Spencer nodded. "Okay," he said. "Just. Sorry."

Brendon watched the smoke rising from his cigarette like he was hypnotized. "I know," he said. "But normally when I’m pissed at someone I bitch to you, and I don’t think that’s gonna work this time. So can I just talk to you later?"

"We can call Jon after the show," Spencer offered.

"Yeah," Brendon said. He sank down and sat on the pavement, closing his eyes. Spencer hung around for a few minutes, but Brendon just sat there, breathing, so eventually Spencer gave up and went back to the bus and played a few rounds of Tetris on his Sidekick instead.

\--

Brendon was a little subdued on stage, but he was no good at staying mad, so by the time he got done he was smiley again. "Nice set," said Spencer, a little hesitantly.

"Yeah, well, it’d have been better if I had a drummer," said Brendon, with a big just-kidding smile. "So, you have the phone? Are we calling Jon or what?"

Spencer hated it when Brendon pretended to be kidding when he bitched about stuff, but he figured letting it drop was probably the smartest move. He shrugged. "Yeah. You gonna shower?"

"He can’t smell me over the phone," Brendon complained. "Hang on, give me five minutes."

Spencer flopped on the couch in the bus, ignoring all the techs and performers walking around. He dialed Jon, who answered with, "Dude, it’s been a week!"

"Sorry. How’s it going?"

"Awesome," said Jon. "Paz has six words."

"Are any of them swear words?"

"Not yet. We’re pretty sure she’s gonna learn ‘dude’ early on, though."

"You haven’t sent pictures in a couple of days. Are you feeling okay?"

Jon laughed. "Keltie wants her to be the flower girl," he said. "I love our fucking hippie friends."

"You’re one to talk," said Spencer.

Brendon wandered out in shorts and a towel. "Is that Jon? Did you start without me?"

Spencer flipped it to speaker. "Jon was telling me that Paz is gonna be a flower girl."

"Dude!" said Brendon happily, jumping on the couch next to Spencer. "That’s awesome. People will spontaneously combust from adorable."

"He wanted Hobo to be the ring bearer," said Spencer, "but Hobo would get lost."

"Aww," said Brendon. "Poor Hobo."

"How’s the tour?" Jon asked.

Brendon said, "Awesome and amazing, Jon Walker. Of course." Spencer raised an eyebrow at him, and Brendon ignored it. "How’s being home all day? Aren’t you bored?"

"Dude," said Jon. "I have this whole family thing going on, maybe you noticed?"

Brendon went kind of still next to Spencer on the couch. "Don’t you miss it?" he asked.

"Sure," said Jon. "But I have Cass and I have Paz. Love and family, y’know? It changes things."

"But you miss us, right?" Spencer asked. He tugged on Brendon until Brendon was sitting almost in his lap. "You miss Zack, and shitty food, and never sleeping, and having no idea where you are."

"Oh man, I don’t know how I live without that," Jon laughed. "Have any more screaming fans tried to eat Brendon?"

"Not with Zack in the way," said Spencer. "He’s doing a photo shoot and a couple of interviews tomorrow."

Brendon made a face. "I don’t wanna do it by myself," he said. "They’re gonna be all up in my face. Jon, tell Spencer he has to do it with me."

"You wanted to tour, dude," said Jon. "I’m sure Spencer will do it with you after, though."

"Not funny, Jon," said Spencer.

"Not funny because it’s totally true," Brendon agreed.

"Okay, we have officially talked about you two having sex as much as I want to in this lifetime," said Jon. "Has Zack set anything on fire yet?"

"Oh man, I was riding a wheely chair down the stairs at the last venue," said Brendon. "And Zack walked by, and I thought he was going to set me on fire. Does that count?"

"Totally," said Jon. "Who wants to say hi to Paz?"

"Me!" said Brendon. "Gimme that baby."

Spencer wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his chin against Brendon’s shoulder and listened to them talk for a while.

\--

Brendon was fine for the photoshoot part of the afternoon, but the interview made him twitchy and upset. Spencer could tell because he made faces and shrugged and stared at his sneakers too much.

"Do you feel more freedom without Ryan breathing down your neck?" asked the reporter, who probably meant well.

Brendon looked a little like he’d been slapped. "He didn’t – We never – No, it’s not like—" Brendon started, and then stopped and looked over where Zack and Spencer were waiting. Spencer nodded. "No," said Brendon again. "Fuck, no, I love singing Ryan’s lyrics, he has an amazing vision. This was just something I wanted to do on my own, but I can’t wait to be back, writing with Ryan and Jon and Spencer again."

"So you don’t feel like you’ve outgrown them?"

In another minute, Spencer was going to need to punch someone, but Brendon handled it. He glared a little and said, "No, fuck, how do you outgrow your best friends? What the fuck." Then he laughed, but it was his confused, annoyed laugh.

"You want me to kill anyone?" Zack said quietly. "They’ll never find the body."

"I’ll let you know," said Spencer.

Brendon got to the end of the interview and walked over, grumbling. "That was bullshit," he said. "And I made her mad, so now the interview is gonna be all ‘punk-ass soloist Brendon Urie disses his own band and has stupid hair.’ You wait."

Spencer took his hand and squeezed. "No one’s going to say that," he said.

Brendon did a fretful little flailing dance. "Ryan’s gonna be pissed."

"I’ll tell him what happened," Spencer promised. He tugged Brendon down the hall, with Zack behind them. "Can I cheer you up?"

"Come play on stage with me tonight," said Brendon. Then he laughed unhappily. "Never mind, I don’t need Ryan madder at me."

Spencer shoved him with his hip. "Stop," he said. "God. You and Ryan both, you act like it’s a competition, and I can only love one of you at a time. It drives me nuts."

Brendon stopped dead in the hallway.

It took Spencer a minute for his brain to catch up to his mouth. His hands were sweaty and his mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t want to take it back. "I do," said Spencer. "Just differently. You and Ryan. Both of you."

"Oh," said Brendon quietly. He didn’t let go of Spencer’s hand, and Spencer told himself that it was a good sign. "Um. Thanks?"

"You don’t have to say it back," said Spencer hastily. "I didn’t mean to – To scare you."

"Ha. _You_ scare _me_ ," Brendon scoffed weakly. "I’m not scared."

"You look scared," said Spencer.

Brendon said, "This is my sexy face. You always get that wrong."

Spencer squeezed Brendon’s hand again. "You okay?" he asked.

Brendon nodded. "I’m fine. I’m totally fine." Behind them, Zack rolled his eyes. "I really like you," Brendon said. "You know that, right?" He stared at his sneakers.

Spencer tugged on his hand. "I know," he said.

\--

"What do you want to order for dinner?" Spencer asked, rolling over.

Brendon was sitting on the floor, stringing his acoustic guitar. "I want…" He wrinkled up his nose. "We’re getting Chinese?"

"What else?"

"Um…" Brendon said. He tilted his head to the side. "Remember what we got it that time with—" He waved his hand in a little circle. "And then Ryan said Keltie can make it?"

"Ohhh," said Spencer. "Ha, that was great. We should call him." He circled beef with broccoli and kung pao chicken and egg rolls.

"They’re getting married in two weeks, I think they’re a little busy." Brendon leaned back against the bed and strummed a couple of chords, then made a face. "Ugh, still flat."

"Just as god made you," said Spencer.

Brendon hit him in the leg. "You stole that joke from Veronica Mars, I was there when Jon made you watch it."

"You stole your _outfits_ from Veronica Mars." He paused. "So the last night of the tour is soon."

"Yep," said Brendon. "Fuck, I’m tired. I can’t wait to get back to my real bed. And I’m pretty sure Ryan’s going to self-destruct without you around to help with the wedding."

"He just needs someone to hold his hand," said Spencer. "I’ll go home and stop him from eloping or setting a guitar on fire and he’ll be fine."

Brendon laughed. "How amazing is this wedding going to be?" he asked. "I’m psyched."

Spencer folded up the corner of the take-out menu in to a tiny accordian. "I was wondering if... If you still wanted me to play with you."

Brendon went still for a second, and then tilted his face up, smiling uncertainly. "You would?" he said. "You seemed pretty adamant that it wasn’t… Um. A good idea."

"If I do, a lot more people are going to think we’re boyfriends," Spencer said. "You didn’t even want the techs to joke about it."

"If you don’t want Ryan—" Brendon started.

"If you don’t want the whole tour—" Spencer said, right over top of him.

Brendon stopped. "Okay," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I give. I want you on stage more than I want people to stop snickering. Would you… Would you really do it?"

" _A_ song," said Spencer, holding up one finger. "Like, the encore, maybe."

Brendon laughed. "I’m not the headliner, I don’t get an encore. Last song, how about."

"It’s too bad we can’t fly Jon and Ryan out. People would go nuts."

"That would be great," Brendon sighed. He tilted his head back against the bed. "Will you really? I don’t want it to be something you do and then you’re resentful at me about."

Spencer slid off the bed and sat down next to Brendon, avoiding the guitar so he could lean against Brendon’s shoulder. "I don’t know if you’ve heard," said Spencer. "I have kind of a thing for you."

"Yeah?" asked Brendon, fighting back a grin.

"Yeah." He leaned over and kissed Brendon.

"You better order dinner then," said Brendon, "before I waste away."

Spencer poked him in the side. "We can’t have that," he said, and Brendon grinned and played a quick burst of chords on his guitar, shaking his head.

\--

It was utterly bizarre being on stage with Brendon, but without Ryan and Jon. Spencer didn’t like the way his stomach lurched, but he liked the way Brendon smiled at him from behind the mic, reaching out and saying, "—a friend of mine, you might know him. Spencer Smith!"

The audience for the tour had been pretty mellow, but there were a good number of fans there to see Brendon Urie from Panic at the Disco, and they started screaming. Spencer walked out and waved a little curtly, trying to keep his head down.

Brendon beamed and it looked like the sun coming up. Spencer smiled back without meaning to.

The screaming got louder. Yeah, the fans had probably figured something out.

Spencer sat down on a stool next to Brendon, with a cymbal and a shaker, and tried not to look too awkward. He missed being at the back of the stage with a whole drumset between him and the audience.

"He _loves_ playing the tambourine," Brendon added, with a wicked smirk.

Spencer didn’t kill him. He figured if that didn’t convince Brendon he was seriously in love then nothing would.

\--

Spencer woke up early, hours before they needed to get up and pack to get to the airport. Brendon was still asleep. He liked to stay up until he could barely keep his eyes open, because otherwise he tended to have trouble getting to sleep. Once he was out, though, Brendon was pretty dead to the world, no matter how much he twitched and flailed and stole the blankets.

Spencer got up and made coffee in the shitty hotel coffee maker, and texted Ryan, _getting in 2day, u redy?_

Ryan texted back, _having a fight. ill talk 2 u l8r._

Spencer frowned and threw the phone into his bag. Keltie and Ryan never really fought, they just got weird at each other. It made sense for the stress to get to them this close to the wedding, but it still sucked.

Brendon yawned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. Spencer grinned. "You’re totally awake, dude," he said. Brendon didn’t move or anything. Spencer knelt at the end of the bed and waited a minute, but the lump under the blankets was totally still. Spencer crawled up toward the pillow.

"I know you’re awake," said Spencer. "You only yawn when you’re waking up." He tugged at the blanket until it revealed Brendon, eyes shut and mouth a little open, hair flattened against the pillow. "C’mon, get up," said Spencer, poking him.

"Nnnn," said Brendon, and tried to pull the blanket back, but Spencer was on top of it. Brendon made another grumpy noise and shut his eyes tighter.

"What if I make it worth your while?" Spencer asked. He leaned down and kissed Brendon, who didn’t really move. Spencer nuzzled Brendon’s neck a little, until Brendon grimaced sleepily, trying not to giggle, and wiggled away. Spencer followed him, pulling the blankets off.

"I could be asleep," Brendon whined, not opening his eyes.

"You could," Spencer agreed. "But you’d be sad you missed this." He licked a stripe across Brendon’s collarbone, where it always made him shiver to be kissed.

"You wanna do all the work?" Brendon asked, a little breathlessly. "Go ahead."

Spencer grinned. He slid his hands down Brendon’s sides, and Brendon whined in the back of his throat. Spencer knelt over Brendon’s legs, kissing his side, the spot where his hipbone stuck out a little, the crease between his thigh and his hip. When he looked up Brendon was watching him sleepily.

"As long as you’re down there," Brendon said, rolling his hips.

Spencer slapped him lightly on the leg. "Uh uh," he said. "We have all morning." He pushed Brendon’s leg up so he could bite at the back of Brendon’s knee, and Brendon giggled and tried to wiggle away, but he was still a little asleep and uncoordinated, and Spencer was wide awake from coffee. Spencer hummed happily to himself, enjoying the way Brendon still smelled like last night’s shower and all the girly shit Ryan insisted on mailing to them. Then he licked and kissed his way back up, totally avoiding Brendon’s dick no matter how much he whined, until he was back nose-to-nose with Brendon.

"You missed the best part," Brendon complained, wiggling against Spencer, and shit, Spencer couldn’t help responding to that. Brendon was half-hard already, and they hadn’t done anything yet.

"Tell me what you want," said Spencer softly.

Brendon reached up and kissed him. "I want you," he said.

"Duh," Spencer agreed. "Tell me what you _want_ from me. I know I’m awesome."

"Is this a test?" Brendon asked suspiciously.

"Yes," said Spencer gravely. "If you fail you never get sex again. Answer wisely."

Brendon laughed. "I want you to fuck me," he said, rolling his hips again. Spencer bit his lip and tried to think unsexy thoughts. "You’re gonna be at Ryan’s house when we get back. I’m gonna miss this. It might be _days_."

"I can do that," Spencer agreed.

"Can you –" Brendon stopped and bit his lip. He was so gorgeously flushed, and his mouth was still soft and a little sleepy. Spencer loved him like this, first thing in the morning.

"Can I what?" Spencer asked. His arms were starting to get a little tired from holding himself up, so he sat back. He liked the way that made Brendon shudder and close his eyes for a second.

Brendon tugged on his hand. "With that," he said. "Can you come back down here and just… I don’t know. I like it when you hold me down a little."

Spencer had to take a couple of deep, calming breaths. "Yeah?" he said, fighting to keep his voice even. It was amazing what those words did, how they lit him on fire.

Brendon nodded uncertainly. "Like you want me here," he said. "Like even if I do something stupid, you won’t let me – I don’t know, I just—"

Spencer leaned down and kissed him. He moved his hands so they were braced on Brendon’s biceps, pushing him down into the bed, and Brendon moaned, tilting his face up. Spencer wanted every inch of bare skin he could get, he was hot all over, and everything Brendon said made him feel less in control. He couldn’t stop himself from starting to push his hips against Brendon’s, and Brendon moved with him, rubbing against his thigh.

"This isn’t gonna take long," said Brendon, biting Spencer’s lip.

"Shut up, I’m a sex god," Spencer said. He squeezed his hands and Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. "Where the fuck did we leave the lube?"

"Suitcase," said Brendon indistinctly.

"Don’t move," Spencer ordered. He sat up and leaned over just long enough to kick shit around on the floor and find the lube and a condom, while Brendon laid there, eyes half-closed and enormously dark, breathing hard. "Jesus Christ," said Spencer. Sometimes he still couldn’t quite believe that he got this. That he got Brendon like this.

"Okay, well, _I’m_ not gonna take long if you don’t hurry the fuck up," said Brendon.

Spencer growled, "You’re going to take exactly as long as I want." He kissed Brendon, and Brendon made a muffled, desperate noise against his mouth, shuddering against him . Little sparks flew around the edges of Spencer’s vision, but he used his weight to hold Brendon still, not letting either of them move, until Brendon’s breathing evened out again.

"You," said Brendon, opening his eyes. "You’re such a fucking tease."

Spencer laughed. "I just want to make it worth getting up early," he said. "You good?"

"No," said Brendon grumpily. Spencer kissed him again and then moved, so he could open up the lube. He worked in one finger and waited for Brendon to relax, then another. "I’m ready, I’m fine," Brendon whined, rocking his hips, but Spencer ignored him, because Brendon got impatient and said that no matter what. Spencer worked in a third finger and started moving, because that always made Brendon get a little incoherent, and he couldn’t complain if he couldn’t talk

Brendon’s eyes shut again and he tipped his head back, bracing his hands against the bed to try and get himself a better angle. Spencer pulled his fingers out and wiped his hand off on the bed. "Okay," said Spencer. "Right?"

"Nnn," said Brendon, but he didn’t sound especially sleepy this time. Spencer pulled a pillow down and wedged it under Brendon’s hips, and Brendon pulled his legs up helpfully.

Spencer rolled on the condom, took a deep breath, and pushed in slowly. Brendon always felt amazing, and Spencer didn’t want to rush. "You gonna move?" Brendon asked, gritting his teeth a little.

"You gonna shut up?" Spencer asked. He thrust his hips a little and Brendon’s mouth fell open. "Yeah," Spencer said. "That’s what I thought."

"Smug," Brendon panted, "jackass."

Spencer started moving, as slowly as he could manage, just to annoy Brendon. "Yeah," he said. "Are you really complaining?"

Brendon moaned, and his fingers clenched and unclenched against the sheets. Spencer couldn’t keep himself still watching that; his heart was pounding and his legs were getting sweaty and his arms were shaking. And Brendon was moving, too, making breathy, helpless little noises. Spencer put his hand on Brendon’s cock, working it in the same rhythm they were rocking, and the way Brendon moaned was completely obscene.

Spencer wanted to draw it out, but he couldn’t breathe, he was shaking all over and he was getting sparks up and down his fingers and legs. He tightened his fist around Brendon’s dick, pulling and twisting until Brendon’s back arched and he gasped, coming all over Spencer’s stomach. Spencer was pretty stubborn, but that was too much; his whole body shuddered when Brendon clenched around him, and his vision whited out as heat rolled through him.

He needed a minute to get his breath back, lying on top of Brendon. "We’re gonna be stuck together," Brendon said, pushing at his shoulder. "You’re heavy."

"You like it," Spencer managed.

Brendon laughed. Spencer could feel it everywhere they were pressed together. "You’re gonna use that against me, huh?" he said.

"Whenever possible," Spencer agreed. He groaned and managed to get back to his knees, pulling the condom off and throwing it in the direction he hoped the trash was. Brendon flailed around a little, wiping himself off with the edge of the sheet. Spencer flopped back down next to him.

"You’re gonna have fun with Ryan," said Brendon. "But not _this_ much fun."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I’ll forget about you the minute I’m back," he said. "Brendon who?"

"As if," said Brendon, and leaned over to kiss him.

Spencer grinned sleepily. "We still have a couple of hours," he said.

Brendon grinned back. "Whatever will we do to pass the time?" he asked.

\--

"What kind of fight?" Spencer said.

Ryan crossed his arms and stuck his chin to his chest like a little kid. "Tremendous," he said. "Horrible."

"Uh huh," said Spencer. "What happened?"

"She's _wrong_ ," said Ryan. He sounded tired and petulant and stressed out, so Spencer decided to skip the 'why are you so stupid?' speech and go straight for the hug.

Ryan was stiff and angular against him, with his shoulders up and his chin down. "Dude," said Spencer. "You're getting married in a week. You're both stressed out. It'll be fine."

"She took Hobo and went to stay with her cousin," said Ryan. "She _took my dog_."

Spencer whistled. "Okay," he said. "Tell me everything."

Ryan sat down miserably on the couch, with his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. "I said how's your dress, and she said it was fine, and I said can I see, and she said no, and I said why not, and she said why are you always asking me things, and I said I just wanna see, and she said I'm nosy, and I said she's keeping secrets, and she said I'm crazy, and I said she's crazy and shut up, and then she started crying and took Hobo and left!"

Spencer nodded like that had made sense. "You wanted to see the dress, and she wants to keep it a surprise, and then she left?" he hazarded.

" _Yes,_ and she's never coming back, and everything is ruined, Spencer!" Ryan said despairingly.

"That's… That's really not true," said Spencer.

"I miss her," said Ryan tragically.

It wasn't funny, because his best friend was obviously in a lot of pain, but it was also a little bit hilarious, because Ryan and Keltie were dorks who couldn't even fight and really mean it. "Have you called her?" asked Spencer.

"She's _mad_ at me!" Ryan moaned.

"Yes, of course she is. You made her cry. Did you call her to apologize?"

Ryan made a face.

Spencer held his hand out. "Give me the phone," he said. Ryan handed it over and hid his face in his hands. Spencer rolled his eyes, since Ryan wasn't looking anyway. "Hey," said Spencer, when Keltie picked up. "It's Spencer. How are you doing?"

"Hobo misses her daddy," said Keltie. She sounded like she'd been crying. "I miss her daddy, too."

"Yeah, Ryan misses both of you," said Spencer. "He's really sorry he snapped. He's just feeling stressed about the wedding."

" _I'm_ feeling stressed!" Keltie wailed. "What if the dress isn't good enough and I don't look pretty? What then, Spencer?"

"You'll look gorgeous, you _are_ gorgeous," Spencer sighed. "He's going to love it. Things are going to be fine."

"I don't know," Keltie sniffled.

"Hang on," said Spencer. He held the phone out to Ryan. "Tell her you love her and you're sorry," he ordered.

Ryan looked uncertainly at the phone. "But I made her _cry_ ," he said.

"Take. The. Phone," Spencer said, gritting his teeth.

Ryan held the phone like an unexploded grenade. "Um, hi," he said. He paused. "No, I'm sorry. I want the dress to be a surprise, I was just worried that the ties I special-ordered might not go! ... No, I love _you_. No, _I_ love _you_!"

Spencer wished Brendon was there. Brendon would have been pretending to throw up all over the place. "Crisis averted?" Spencer asked.

"Shhh," Ryan said. "We're apologizing." He wandered off, reassuring the phone that he loved Hobo and Keltie and flowers and sunshine and weddings.

Spencer laughed, but he was a good friend, so he only laughed for a few minutes.

\--

Spencer didn't see Brendon at all that week because he was running around like a crazy person trying to get Ryan's wedding ready. They were getting married at a gorgeous little beach that just happened to be too far away for Ryan to actually go check on the preparations, so Spencer drove to the coast and spent a few days there, on the phone with Ryan, double-checking that the cake was the right shade of turquoise, and the table cloths had the right frilly lace trim. The baker had forgotten to make a hundred tiny cupcakes as favors, with candy starfish on top, and the flowers were all supposed to be dyed blue and white but they were green, and the caterers called up to ask if it was okay to substitute broccoli for cauliflower. Spencer barely slept all week.

The guests started arriving and the hotel couldn't find the favor bags, so Spencer had to go and yell at the receptionists for a while. It was nice to see Pete and Ashlee and Zack and Ryan's step-brothers and Keltie's entire family, but he felt sweaty and gross and exhausted and he wanted to lie down somewhere and wait for the wedding to be over so he could die. Everyone wanted to kiss and hug and talk about what he'd been up to and all Spencer wanted to do was find his room and go to sleep.

Brendon popped up that morning, early, with his asshole sunglasses and his shiny jacket. "You look awful," he said.

"Shut up," said Spencer, blinking hard to stay awake.

Brendon took the box of favors out of his hand. "Everyone gets one of these, right?" he asked.

"No," said Spencer. "I mean, yes, but I told Ryan I would check off the guests when they arrived."

"Yeah," said Brendon, mock-seriously. "I totally have never met Jon Walker, and I definitely can't check him off a list. You look like a zombie, you idiot, go get some sleep. Ryan's gonna be a wreck. He needs you functioning and awake."

"I'm fine," said Spencer, but he let Brendon take the favors out of his hands, along with his multi-colored check-off sheets and his clipboard, and stumbled upstairs. Belatedly he thought he should have kissed Brendon hello or something, but by the time he considered it he already had the lights off, and thirty seconds later he was asleep.

\--

Spencer woke up feeling like he was being watched. He blinked a couple of times, trying to make his eyes focus, and when they eventually did there was a tiny person sitting on his bed, with a giant sparkly pink bow in her tufts of baby hair.

"Hi," said Paz.

"Hey," Spencer croaked.

"Hi," said Paz again, and then clapped. "Hi, hi!"

Spencer was saved from saying hi again because Jon came bursting in, turning on the lights. "Where the hell – How did you get _up_ there?" he asked, scooping Paz up.

"Hi!" she said brightly.

"That's her new word this week," said Jon, a little apologetically. "Sorry, did she wake you up?"

"Yeah, but it's cool," said Spencer, sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair. "When did you guys get here?"

"A couple hours ago. Brendon said not to bother you, but Paz isn't big on following directions." He bounced her up and down a couple of times, and she giggled and clapped. "Who's gonna grow up to be daddy's little felon? Is it you? You with the little face?"

"Hi," said Paz, hugging him.

It was seriously vomit-inducingly cute. "I should get up and help out," said Spencer. "I didn't mean to sleep for that long."

"Eh, we were gonna get you up in a little bit anyway," said Jon. "Rehearsal dinner starts in an hour."

That meant Spencer had slept basically the entire day away. "Shit," he said, and then, "Whoops, sorry, I forgot about the baby."

"Bronx has been teaching her swear words all day," said Jon. "No worries."

Brendon elbowed past Jon. "Oh, he's up? Good, Ryan was just having his fifth nervous breakdown of the afternoon. He'd like to talk to you. Apparently everything is wrong, forever, and nothing can ever be fixed again."

"Hey," said Spencer, smiling at him. "Thanks for—"

"Nah," said Brendon, waving a hand around airily. "You know how I get bored. Jon, can I hold her?" He made grabby hands at Paz, who lunged for him and nearly fell on her head. Brendon caught her and she grabbed for his glasses. "Those are not for you," he said. "You're gonna have perfect vision like your daddy. Hey, Spencer, have you seen the wagon they got Hobo?"

"Wagon?" Spencer asked, blinking.

Brendon laughed. "Oh boy," he said. "You are in for a treat."

\--

The rehearsal dinner was in a big room with an open wall looking out over the ocean. Spencer had spent a long time overseeing all the little sparkly stars that were glued to the ceiling. There were green lights and tinsel, because Ryan wanted it to look like it was all underwater, he said, and whatever crazy thing Ryan wanted for his wedding he got.

Brendon said, "So? You have a speech? Is it awesome? Can I see?"

"Chill out," said Spencer. He had a speech, but he sort of hated it, and he didn't think it was fair anyway; Ryan was the one who wrote things. Ryan should have written it.

Brendon was bouncing off the walls. "Why can't I see it?" he asked. "Are you going to cry? I'm probably going to cry."

People were starting to come in, so it wasn't the right time, but Spencer crowded Brendon back against the wall anyway. "If you don't chill," he said quietly, "I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna _what_?" asked Brendon, sticking his chin up and smiling.

Spencer didn't actually have an answer for that except all the ones he couldn't say in public. He pushed his leg between Brendon's bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Brendon's head. "I won't do this," he said, rolling his hips a little.

"Oh yeah?" asked Brendon breathlessly.

"Yeah."

" _Try_ and keep your hands off," said Brendon.

Spencer didn't want to. "Oh, I will," he said.

"Oh no, you won't," said Brendon.

"Yes, I _will_ ," said Spencer.

Behind him, Jon cleared his throat way too loudly. Spencer turned. "Hey," said Jon, eyebrows raised. "You two might wanna find a… I don't know, if I say closet are you gonna be offended?"

Brendon burst out laughing. "Are we corrupting your virgin eyes, Jon Walker?" he asked delightedly.

"Paz is gonna come toddling past here any second, and I don't need her getting sex ed before she learns to walk without falling over. I figure the TV can teach her all about that anyway."

"Right, sorry," said Spencer, stepping away from the wall. He felt a little embarrassed and a little horny and he blamed Brendon.

Brendon slipped his hand into Spencer's. "Still nervous?" he asked.

"Fuck you, I don't get nervous," said Spencer.

"Never," said Brendon. "Not you."

\--

All Spencer remembered later was that the room looked like it was underwater, and Ryan and Keltie were holding hands under the table. She was wearing a giant yellow flower in her hair, and Ryan had a matching flower in his button hole. The room was full of people and Spencer said something – he hoped it sounded coherent – about love, and friends, and how happy Ryan looked, and then Keltie started to cry, smiling. Brendon started to cry then, too, and he and Keltie hugged, and Ryan beamed, and Spencer stumbled through some words about how Ryan deserved all the good things in the world, and Ryan hugged him, and Jon started clapping, and Spencer got to sit down again.

"How did it go?" Spencer whispered to Brendon, once Pete was standing up to give his speech, full of embarrassing stories and hilarious Ryan anecdotes.

"Shane filmed it," Brendon whispered back. "You can watch it sometime. It was good."

"Okay," said Spencer. "Thanks."

\--

Spencer got pretty drunk. Brendon got drunker. Brendon was always pretty touchy but by halfway through the party he was sitting on Spencer's lap, making really dirty jokes. Ryan and Jon and Keltie and Cassie pretended not to notice, which was nice.

All Spencer wanted was to take Brendon back up to their hotel room and get naked, but he was the best man and he couldn't ditch Ryan for sex. "I totally won't ditch you for sex," he told Ryan a couple of times, and both times Ryan nodded patiently. Ryan was a little drunk.

Keltie was having some sort of crisis with her bridesmaids; apparently someone had lost her shoes and someone else was having a fight with the boy she'd brought as a date, so Keltie kept having to get up and stop people from crying in the hallway. "Happens all the time at weddings," Brendon assured Spencer gravely. "There's always fighting and crises and shit. My brother, right, his car broke down and he was an hour late and my sister-in-law thought he wasn't coming and got in to a yelling match with her mother about whether he was good enough for her. And it was like, in the middle of the party, so everyone heard everything. Christmas that year suuuuucked. Plus, Mormon wedding, so no booze. Totally awful."

"I think maybe we wrote a song like that one time," said Spencer, and Brendon giggled.

"You two are officially making me sick," said Jon.

"Bring back the baby, Jon," said Brendon. Cassie had taken Paz upstairs to bed a while earlier. "No one wants to talk to you anymore, we just want the baaaaaby."

"Have your own, then," said Jon. He finished off his third or fourth glass of champagne. "You guys look comfy enough. Is the next wedding gonna be your big gay extravaganza?"

Brendon had been leaning back against Spencer's chest, totally loose-limbed and relaxed, but he sat up, back suddenly rigid. "It's not like that," he said.

Jon shrugged. "I better be best man," he said. "I'm gonna make the most horrifically embarrassing speech, you just wait."

Brendon wasn't breathing, and Spencer wasn't sure why. "Let's just get through Ryan's, huh?" said Spencer. He put his hand over Brendon's and waited for Brendon to relax again.

"I need another drink," said Brendon, sliding off Spencer's chair. "I'll be back."

"Did I say something?" Jon asked.

Spencer shrugged. "Everyone's weird about weddings," he said.

\--

Brendon kept the TV in their room on. "We have to be up in like, two hours," Spencer groaned finally.

"You want me to put it on mute?" Brendon asked.

"I want you to turn it off and _come here_ ," Spencer said, flopping the blanket around grumpily.

"I'm not tired," said Brendon. "I'm gonna go for a walk, see if I can tire myself out or whatever."

Spencer sat up. "Seriously," he said. "It's like, four in the morning."

"Too much sugar," said Brendon, which was weird, because he hadn’t really eaten dessert. "Sorry I'm keeping you up." He leaned over and kissed Spencer and then jumped off the bed, grabbing his jeans and sneakers.

"If you wake me up when you get back I'm gonna be pissed," Spencer yawned, frowning.

"I'll be quiet like a church mouse," said Brendon, smiling and tilting his head. "Don't worry."

It took Spencer forever to get to sleep after that. His stomach was weirdly unsettled and the bed felt cold.

\--

When Spencer woke up Brendon was burrowed under the blankets on the other side. Spencer would have let him sleep in, but they needed to be dressed and downstairs for the wedding.

He shook Brendon awake. "You slept in your jeans?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Loud," said Brendon, yawning. "I always…" His eyes shut again and his breathing started evening out.

Spencer had a pretty good idea that the end of the sentence would have been something about how Brendon always managed to knock over furniture or break something when he tried to undress in the dark. "You have to get up," said Spencer, shoving Brendon until he sat up. "Shower, I'll make coffee. Ryan Ross is getting married in a few hours."

"Is it okay if I still think that's kind of weird?" Brendon asked. He stumbled into the bathroom.

Spencer thought it was weird, too, but he was dealing with it. "Hurry up!" he yelled.

"Yeah, yeah," Brendon called back. "Keep your pants on."

"I don't have pants on," Spencer said.

Brendon threw a towel at him. Spencer felt better about the whole day.

\--

They spent most of the day holding Ryan's hand while he said, "I can't believe it's _today_ ," over and over in various tones of awe, worry, and impatience. At one point Brendon did a handstand and fell over and got his blue tuxedo all dirty, but Keltie's mom took care of it with soda water, a washcloth, and a stern lecture to behave himself.

"Do you know my favorite part of beach weddings?" Jon asked. "Formal flip flops. Check this shit out." He wiggled his toes happily.

"I can't believe I'm getting married _today_ ," said Ryan.

"You know who's overrated?" said Spencer. "Chuck Palahniuk. That dude can barely write."

Ryan spluttered with anger for a minute and then started in on what Spencer fondly called 'lecture number four: reasons why Invisible Monsters is so much better than anything else ever written in the English language.' Brendon hid a giggle in Jon's shoulder.

\--

They got married on the beach, almost in the surf. It was a little hard to hear the ceremony, but it didn't matter, because it was sunny and warm and everyone was smiling. Brendon played the wedding march on his guitar and Paz and Hobo were pulled down the aisle in a red Radio Flyer wagon by Zack, looking solemn. Paz threw out handfuls of rose petals, mostly getting them stuck to Hobo. Hobo was sitting on a box with the rings in it. Keltie's dress was amazing; it was short and turquoise and layer after layer of frothy lace that went perfectly with the slightly insane blue lace ties Ryan had bought for his groomsmen.

"Short dresses don't get sandy," Jon whispered.

"Plus, Keltie has really hot legs," Brendon whispered back.

Ryan was the only person on earth who would have worn a full three-piece suit with formal leather shoes to the beach, but he didn't look hot or sweaty or any weirder than usual. And the way he smiled at Keltie it was hard for Spencer to even come up with anything sarcastic to whisper to Brendon.

\--

There was dancing back at the hotel, looking over the ocean, and somehow in the press of family wanting to hug Spencer and congratulate Ryan, Spencer lost track of Brendon. Ryan didn't have a lot of family around, but Spencer did, and Keltie did, and there were lots of hands to shake and cheeks to kiss and people to try and recognize from Christmas four years earlier.

"Where the hell did my boyfriend go?" Spencer asked Jon, when people started sitting down.

Jon shrugged. Paz was getting a little fussy, being stuck in a dress and shoes for so many hours in a row. "He's a little dude," said Jon. "Did you look under the chairs?"

"Shut up," said Spencer.

Paz kicked fretfully. "Daaaaaa," she complained, pulling at the straps of her sandals.

"Dude, she is so your daughter," Spencer said.

"She's not even a year old," said Jon. "She is already deliberately losing her shoes so we can't make her wear them. That's not normal."

"It might be in the Walker household," Spencer pointed out, and went off to look for Brendon.

He wasn't anywhere in the reception hall, and he wasn't back in their hotel room. Spencer texted him an annoyed _were the fuck ru?_ and went back downstairs.

It was just coincidence that Spencer happened to pass by one of the balconies looking out over the beach.

It was just coincidence that Spencer saw Brendon standing out there, making his stupid flirty face at one of the girls serving drinks.

It was just coincidence that Spencer was watching when Brendon leaned in a little too close and kissed her.

There was a weird rushing noise in Spencer's ears, like the ocean had gotten a lot louder, and for a minute he felt dizzy and hot and cold, and then just numb all over.

Spencer pushed the door open. "Hey," he heard someone saying. "We're gonna be late and Ryan's waiting."

Brendon jerked back and stared at him, but he didn't look guilty, exactly. Shocked. His mouth was open and it was kind of red because he'd been kissing someone else.

"Let's go," said Spencer.

"Spencer," Brendon said, and his voice was shaking a little.

"Ryan's waiting," Spencer repeated. His voice was so flat and cold and he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to scream or cry or anything. "We have to go downstairs."

Brendon frowned at him. He was close enough to punch, Spencer thought, and wondered if he should. "I can—" Brendon started.

It was totally out of Spencer's control, the way his arm flew out and shoved Brendon back against the wall. He hit with a thud, and Spencer hoped it really hurt. "Dinner," said Spencer. "And then I'm going home."

"Spencer," said Brendon again in a tiny voice.

Spencer turned on his heel and walked off.

\--

Ryan was too distracted by smiling at Keltie and Hobo and Jon and Paz and the entire world to notice that Spencer was just sitting there, staring at his plate. He managed to muster up a couple of smiles for the grandparents, but all the conversation at dinner was just background noise, and Spencer couldn't follow any of it.

"Hey," said Jon. "Why's Brendon sitting over there?"

"I don't know," said Spencer, and didn't look.

\--

Spencer texted Ryan _family emergency, g2g_ and drove home a little after midnight.

Ryan didn’t text him back until almost noon the next day, which was probably because of all the wedding-night sex he was having, and Spencer totally didn't begrudge him that. All Spencer was doing was sitting on his couch, waiting for his chest to stop hurting all the time.

_U ok? Did u and bden fight? he looks shitty._

_Idk, ud have to ask him,_ Spencer texted back, and turned his phone off.

\--

"What the fuck," Ryan said.

Spencer had forgotten Ryan had a key to his place. "Hey," he said.

Ryan put his hands on his hips and tried really hard for menacing. "You turned off your phone," he said. "Two days, and I'm supposed to be all happy that I got married and instead I'm freaking out that my best friend killed himself or something."

"I'm not that dramatic," Spencer mumbled. He flipped the TV off. "I'm just sitting around."

"Not eating," said Ryan.

Spencer shrugged.

"Not talking to me," Ryan added.

Spencer shrugged again.

Ryan sat down on the couch next to him. "Hey," he said. "What the fuck happened?"

Spencer didn't know the right words to explain it. "I was wrong," he said finally, looking at the rug. It was pretty ugly. He needed a new one.

"Yeah?" said Ryan quietly. "What did he do?"

Spencer laughed bitterly. "He… It was all wrong, it was all stupid, I don't want to talk about it."

Ryan leaned against his shoulder. He was boney but he was warm, and Spencer closed his eyes. "Okay," said Ryan.

\--

Ryan made food and Spencer tired to eat it, but he mostly felt tired and cold and achey all over. "Maybe I just have the flu," he said.

"Love flu?" asked Ryan, and his eyes got all weird and distant.

"If you and Jon write a song called Love Flu I am not playing on it," said Spencer.

"Okay, you don't have the love flu," Ryan conceded. "Do you want to talk to him? Should I call him? Or beat him up? Or—"

"I just need some time," said Spencer. "A year or two, to get my head together again."

"It's okay to be really upset," said Ryan.

Spencer shook his head. "It's not even like that," he said. "I just… I want to crawl under the blankets and never come out again. When Haley left I cried a little, got drunk a little, and dealt with it. I don't feel anything about this. Just… sad."

"Oh, man," said Ryan.

"Sad and stupid," Spencer said. "Because I thought we had… I really thought he was… That we were… And I was wrong, I was deluded, he's still the same fucking Brendon he always was, and I'm stupid. I'm so stupid." His eyes started burning.

"I thought so, too," said Ryan. "We all did."

Spencer shook his head and pressed his lips together, because his chest was hurting again. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, because he wasn't going to cry over this. It was too stupid.

"You're gonna be okay," said Ryan.

Spencer wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head.

\--

"I love you," said Ryan. "But the thing is, I'm supposed to leave on my honeymoon tomorrow."

Spencer nodded tiredly.

Ryan wasn't nearly as good a cuddler as Brendon had been, but Spencer didn't want to think about that ever again. Ryan wrapped his arms around Spencer. "So if I'm calling the honeymoon off you need to let me know," Ryan went on. "Keltie will understand."

"Fuck, no she won't," said Spencer. "You're going, Ryan, Jesus Christ."

"I can stay," said Ryan stubbornly. "I'll stay for you."

"I'll kick you out."

"I have a key."

"I'll change the locks."

Ryan sighed. "Maybe you should talk to him."

"No," said Spencer. "I don't have anything to say to him."

"I can't leave you alone like this."

"I'll still be like this when you get back," Spencer promised. "You won't miss anything."

"Shut up," said Ryan, and hugged harder.

\--

Ryan spent the night in Spencer's bed, and then he left in the morning because Spencer made him. "Please go," said Spencer. "You only get one shot at this."

"I'll stay," Ryan said, but he wanted to be with Keltie, and Spencer wanted him to be happy.

Spencer pushed him out the door and went back to his couch. He turned the TV on to local news, so he wouldn't have to actually listen to it, and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

If he ever stopped feeling numb all over this was really going to hurt.

\--

By the end of the week Spencer had started eating again, although he still didn't care about it. Ryan was texting him approximately every ten minutes from Europe. _We just saw a castle, ru ok?_ Or _could stay in paris 4eva drinking wine and cheese how ru doing?_

Spencer texted back, _stop ignoring ur wife_ , and tried to pretend he wasn't incredibly grateful for Ryan.

\--

Brendon called Monday night. It had been over a week. Spencer stared at the phone uncertainly, like maybe he was reading it wrong. He'd wanted to delete Brendon's number, but that didn’t make sense; they were still in a band. Some day he was going to have to talk to Brendon again.

He clicked the green button but he didn't say anything.

"Spencer," said Brendon. "Can I… Can I come over and apologize?"

"I don't want to talk to you," said Spencer. His voice was rusty and deep because he hadn't said anything out loud to anyone since Ryan had left.

"Please," said Brendon. "I'm sorry."

He sounded miserable and tired. Spencer was glad. He clicked the phone off and grabbed himself a beer.

\--

Brendon didn't call back, so Spencer sort of figured he'd given up, but an hour later there was banging on Spencer's door. Spencer sighed.

He opened the door a crack. Brendon was pale and he looked like he hadn't slept since the wedding. "I need to talk to you," said Brendon, determinedly sticking his hands in his pockets and straightening his arms, forcing his shoulders up around his ears.

"For the good of the band," said Spencer, "I'm not gonna punch you in the face."

"You can if you want," said Brendon. He put up his chin. "Free shot. Hell, two. I deserve it."

"You do," Spencer agreed. "But that's not really my style."

"I need to apologize," said Brendon.

Spencer shook his head. "What the hell are you gonna say?" he said. "Sorry I hit on someone else at our friend's wedding? Sorry I made you look like an idiot? Sorry I'm a shitty person?"

Brendon hunched a little. "All of that, yeah," he said. He stared hard at his shoes. "I don’t think this is gonna end with you forgiving me or anything," Brendon said quietly. "But Jon and Ryan both… If we're gonna work together they both think we ought to talk. I'm _sorry_ ," he said. His voice was getting shaky the way it did before he cried.

If Brendon cried, Spencer was going to want to feel badly for him, and Spencer couldn't handle that. "Fine," he said. "Come on in." He turned and walked away from the door.

He wished he'd showered in the last few days, but Brendon looked pretty awful, too. "Okay," said Brendon. "Okay, good." He put his hands in his hoodie pockets and followed Spencer.

Spencer got himself another beer and sat down on the couch. Brendon stood there uncertainly, like he didn't know if he was allowed to sit, and Spencer sure as hell wasn't going to invite him to. He wanted Brendon to say whatever it was and leave. Brendon bit his lip and fidgeted, and Spencer's instinct was to reach out for him, so he held his beer a little tighter and stared until Brendon dropped his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Brendon said.

"Yeah, you said that," said Spencer. "If that's all, you can go—"

"No," Brendon said hastily. "No, I… I fucked up. I was scared and I was tired and I did something so stupid that I… I kind of can't believe I did it."

"I had trouble for a while, too," said Spencer dryly. "I got over it."

Brendon nodded miserably. "All I was thinking about was how overwhelmed I felt, with Ryan getting married, and Jon saying that about us, and… I…"

"You wanted me to dump you so it wouldn't all be so serious," said Spencer harshly. Brendon flinched. "You're pretty transparent when you're a fucking moron."

"I just don't want a house," Brendon blurted.

Spencer stared at him. "Did I offer to buy you one?" he asked.

"I don't… Paz is cute, but I don't want kids, and I don't want a house, and I don't want to quit touring and playing, and I'm sorry," Brendon said.

"Why would I make you quit touring?" Spencer asked. He felt tired all over. "That doesn't even make sense."

Brendon shrugged helplessly. "People who… When they get serious, they move to Chicago and have babies, or they get married and stop touring."

"I'm not Ryan and you're not Keltie," Spencer snapped. "Why would we do that?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry," said Brendon, and he sounded like he was going to cry again. "All I could think about was my parents, and their house and their kids and their lives, with the fence around the yard, and the grandkids, and how much I don't want that. But Ryan's going to have a house like that, and Jon has kids, and, and—"

He hiccupped and every instinct Spencer'd had since he'd met Brendon wanted him to reach out and give Brendon a hug, but he refused to give in.

"The thing is," said Brendon, struggling to keep his voice even. "The thing is, if I had to pick between touring and you, I don't know what I'd do. I love touring and making music too much to give it up ever, for anyone, but I love you, and this is a shitty time to realize it, but that's all I've been able to think about since I… Since you left."

Spencer was going to cry, too, if he wasn’t careful. He wasn't sure Brendon deserved to see that. "You're so dumb," said Spencer tightly. "I didn't try to make you stay home. I went on tour _with you_."

"But that was before we were serious," said Brendon.

"I was _always_ serious about you," said Spencer. "That's the difference between us. You were never—"

"I was! I just… I figured it out too late." Brendon took a deep, shuddering breath. "Anyway," he said. "That was what I wanted to say. I love you. And I'm sorry."

He waited, but Spencer didn't say anything. He was holding on too tightly to how angry he was, because if he let go of that he was going to say something stupid.

"Okay," said Brendon finally. "Thanks for hearing me out." He nodded a couple of times to himself and headed out.

Brendon had his hand on the knob and the door open, when Spencer was surprised to hear himself say, "You fucked up."

"I… Yeah," Brendon agreed, stopping. He turned a little. "I did."

Spencer stood up. "If I hadn't come by then, would you have fucked her?"

Brendon shook his head quickly. "I've never felt so bad in my life," he said. "I've fucked around a lot, and I've slept around a lot, but I've never felt like that before. Even before I knew you were there. That's when I realized that I wasn't just dating you, that I wasn't just hanging out with you until you got bored, or I got bored, or you got back with Haley."

"None of that was going to happen," said Spencer. He was so baffled by Brendon's brain sometimes.

"I know," said Brendon. "That was the scary part."

Spencer's chest felt heavy, and his stomach was churning. "I can't just pretend like that didn’t happen," he said.

"I know," said Brendon again. He turned the doorknob back and forth nervously. "If you… If you think you could forgive me, though, some day, I'd… Anything, Spencer. Anything you want."

"I want you to never have kissed her," said Spencer. Brendon's face fell. "But I can't… I mean. I knew you were freaking out, and I didn't say anything." He walked over to the door.

"When I'm with you I don't want to be anywhere else," Brendon said, almost whispering. "And I'm terrified, because I've never felt that way, and I don't know what to do."

"Tell me you can deal with that," Spencer said.

Brendon nodded. "Scary things aren't as scary with you around," he said. He laughed a little bitterly. "It's so fucking ironic."

Spencer took a deep breath. "I need time," he said.

"Right, obviously, of course," Brendon said quickly. "I'm gonna go home, I won't call or anything, you can call me if you want to—"

"Stay," said Spencer. "Can you just… I miss you."

They stared at each other for a long minute.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Brendon cautiously. "I... I don't want you to wonder, later, if you shouldn't have. I don't want you to be hasty and then later hate me for it. Hate me more, I mean."

Spencer's eyes were burning again. "I don't hate you," he said. "I wish I hated you. I'm disappointed and I'm mad, but mostly I love you. I missed you _so much_."

"I'm never going to do that again," Brendon promised quietly. "But I probably will screw up somehow. I don't think I make a very good boyfriend."

"If it's not you being maliciously stupid then we'll deal with it," said Spencer. "Couples fight. Couples who are _serious_ fight and then they talk about it and then they deal with it."

It was kind of a challenge. Spencer waited for Brendon to freak out or say _but we're not that serious_ or something.

Brendon nodded. "You want me to find a therapist?" he asked. "I probably should anyway."

"I just want you to stay," said Spencer.

Brendon let go of the door. "Okay," he said.

Spencer was having a little trouble remembering how to breathe. "Can we just… I don't know. Can we just go to bed? I haven't been sleeping really well lately."

"I haven't slept at all," said Brendon. He shut the door and followed Spencer into the bedroom.

Spencer kicked off his shoes, but he didn’t get undressed, he just crawled on top of the blankets up to the pillow. He felt a million years old. Brendon hesitated, watching him. "C'mon," said Spencer.

Brendon nodded and kicked off his shoes, and then sat hesitantly on the bed. After a minute he leaned back against the headboard, arms around his drawn-up knees.

"No," said Spencer. "Come here." He tugged on Brendon's hand, and it was weird to think that he hadn't touched Brendon once since Brendon had shown up at his door. He liked touching Brendon. He missed it.

"I'm sorry," Brendon whispered. He scooted down so he was lying next to Spencer.

"Say the other part," said Spencer, lacing his fingers through Brendon's. "Say the important part."

Brendon knew what he meant. "I love you," said Brendon, and he didn't sound scared or forced or anything but sincere. "I love you."

"Okay," said Spencer, and squeezed his hand.

\--

Spencer woke up wrapped around Brendon. His arm was tight around Brendon's waist and his leg was hooked over Brendon's and his chin was tucked into the crook of Brendon's neck. Brendon was breathing evenly, mouth open, lashes fanned across his cheek. There were still circles under his eyes, but he looked better than he had the night before.

"Hey," Spencer whispered. He squeezed a little. Brendon was so warm.

Brendon snuffled quietly.

"Hey," Spencer repeated, kissing Brendon's neck. "Wake up."

Brendon yawned and stretched. He rolled onto his back, blinking sleepily up at Spencer. "Hi," he said, smiling.

"Missed you," said Spencer.

For a second confusion flickered over Brendon's face. Then he smiled again. "I missed you, too," he said. He wrapped his arms around Spencer's neck and pulled him down for a morning-breath kiss.

"You forgot we were fighting," Spencer laughed, pulling back.

"I just woke up!" Brendon protested. "I can't remember every little thing. Sorry, Stan. Whoops, I mean Steve. I mean—"

Spencer's hands were lined up just right to tickle, so he did, but he didn't try very hard to make Brendon roll away.

\--

Brendon stayed. He made breakfast and sat on Spencer's couch and talked about the dog he saw at the mall in the pet store window that almost made him cry, because he couldn't take her home, and his new obsession with listening to Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain on repeat, and how he'd talked to Ryan about playing the ukulele but playing it was way harder than guitar, and Amanda Palmer had offered to help him out.

Spencer made fun of him, and nodded in all the right places, and thought about how weird it was that things felt mostly normal again. His stomach still hurt a little bit, and he felt a little more wary, but Brendon was there.

Brendon stopped talking, looking uncertain. "What?" he said. "Did I say something?"

Spencer shook his head. "I can't believe I missed having some fucking peace and quiet," Spencer joked. His throat hurt. "What the fuck." He sprawled out across the couch, with his head in Brendon's lap, and stole the remote.

"What were you thinking?" Brendon asked, carding his fingers through Spencer's hair.

"I don't know," said Spencer.

"I can shut up," Brendon offered.

Spencer laughed. "No, you can't," he said. "Don't bother."

Brendon grinned.

\--

After a couple of days they called Ryan. He'd been texting regularly, but Spencer was oddly reluctant to mention their reconciliation just in case Ryan didn't believe in it.

"So, guess who's with me," said Spencer finally, after a few minutes of hearing about how Keltie loved Rome, and was planning to buy a moped and stay there forever.

"Your mom?" said Ryan. "Dude, it's three AM here, I can't play guessing games."

"No," said Spencer. His pulse was weirdly fast. "Brendon."

There was a long pause. "You guys talked?" said Ryan.

"Yeah. We're… We're working things out."

"Oh, thank god," said Ryan, and Spencer could breathe again. "I thought Jon and I were gonna have to club you both and lock you in a basement or something."

Spencer laughed. "You're always looking out for me, huh?"

"Dude. I want you to be happy. And he makes you happy."

Spencer grinned at Brendon, who was standing a little uncertainly in the doorway to the living room. "Here, tell him," said Spencer, holding the phone out.

Brendon fidgeted a little as he took the phone. "I said I was really, really, really, really sorry," he blurted, before Ryan could say hello. Brendon waited a second. "Yeah," he said, and then, "Yeah. No, I know. I won't. I will totally let you kill me, too, don't worry." There was a longer pause. "Holy shit," said Brendon. "Say that again."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "What?" he said. "What's up?"

Brendon flapped a hand at him. "You did?" he said. "No, seriously? Oh my god!" He turned to Spencer, full-on beaming. "Ryan says he's all inspired and shit. He's started writing songs. He wants to record when he and Keltie get back."

"Oh, dude!" said Spencer. "We're gonna rent the Jon Walker family a house out here, so we can play with Paz full time."

"It's gonna be amazing," said Brendon, and turned back to the phone. "You – No, fuck you, B flat. Why would you write anything in – Yeah, no, I can play the ukulele for sure. Oh my god, come back tomorrow." He paused. "Okay, when Keltie stops yelling tell her I was just kidding, take your time, we'll be waiting." He flashed Spencer another grin.

Spencer laced his fingers through Brendon's and tugged him back down on to the couch. " _We'll_ be waiting," he repeated, and he couldn't stop smiling.  



End file.
